Ripples and Waves
by Parabatrai
Summary: Just weeks after Valentine's defeat, the Nephilim and Downworld alike are just adjusting back to normal life. With Alec and Magnus finally not having to worry about any more perils surrounding them, or any of the others, things are finally looking up. What they don't realize, however, is that one man is making it his business to tear all that back down again...
1. Chapter 1 - Storm with Skin

**Chapter One**

 **He is not a Man. He is a Storm with Skin.**

Catarina Loss knocked on the solid oak door. Once. Twice. Three times. It swung open before her knocking had reached the desperation of four.

"I'd recognize that door destroying knock anywhere. Care to kick it down while you're at it?" The warlock on the other side's voice dripped with sarcasm as she pushed past him into his loft. "What's on your mind, Cat?" Catarina ran a hand through her braids and blew out a breath. She must have been running. In actual fact, now that she shook off her dripping coat (onto Magnus' 17th Century Venetian rug, to his annoyance) he noticed that she still had on her nurses scrubs.

"It's…Idris," she sighed. He shrugged.

"You'll have to be more specific than that, Sweetheart."

"I've just had that Santiago vampire corner me about it. He asked if the warlocks knew anything about a new Consul. A new Manhattan Consul. Sent from Idris. He's coming this week, apparently." Magnus couldn't understand the panic radiating from his closest friend. A new Consul wasn't a terrifically huge phenomenon, especially not to the Downworld. His blank expression made Catarina continue. "His name is Mitchell Freeworld. Raphael seemed really tense about this guy, so I researched him. He's an ex-Circle member, Magnus. Got out before the Uprising, but…"

"Catarina, the Lightwoods were Circle Members too. As were Jocelyn and Luke. How does that make him any different?" Catarina reached down to her coat and pulled her phone out of the pocket. Magnus could already see the pool of water soaking into his centuries old rug. Lovely.

"Manhattan hasn't had a real, long-term Consul in years, and yeah, after everything that's happened here, then there should obviously be suspicion from the Clave, but this man…" she showed Magnus a picture of the man that worried her. The man was dressed neatly in a white suit, with a seraph blade at his side like a walking stick. He was hard to age, but Magnus guessed he was roughly sixty. Possibly older, but definitely not younger. He seemed tall, though there was no indication in the photograph to prove this, and he was large in stature. His face was as pale as a vampires and held no smile. Runes carved their way around his hands, and a stamina Rune took its place on his neck, the opposite side to where Alec's deflection Rune was. No glimmer of emotion seeped through him. Only coldness and ice, like his eyes. His hair was the only thing that was unkempt. It was white, light and feathery. It didn't suit him. Something about this man screamed recognition at Magnus, but the warlock couldn't place it. He didn't know him. Magnus handed Catarina back her phone as rain pelted against the window panes.

"I don't know about him, Magnus," Catarina sighed as she pulled her coat back on. It hardly seemed worth her while taking it off, so Magnus' rug was destroyed for no apparent reason. "There's something about him. Raphael was one freaked out vampire."

"I'll ask him about it, if it makes you feel any better," he offered, crossing his arms. He noticed a tear in his wine coloured jacket while he did, and with a flick of his fingers, blue sparks sewed it up again.

"Be sure to. And the Lightwood boy, too." Magnus loved Catarina with all his heart. She and Ragnor had been his best friends and most loyal companions for centuries. Now that Ragnor was gone, Magnus realized with a pang in his heart, that Catarina was all that more dear to him. She wasn't replacing Ragnor, no one ever could, but she could help him move forward, as he would help her. However, if there was one thing that bugged Magnus about her, was her massive distaste for Nephilim. That was understandable after all the hate Downworlders had been showed by them in the past. They both remembered times when it was safer hidden from the angel-blooded heroes than demons and rogue Downworlders put together. But times were changing, and that was all down to Alec or 'the Lightwood boy' as Catarina called him. He wasn't a boy. He was a man. He was _his_ man. He didn't need Alec's mortality issue right now. They would tackle that hurdle when they came to it, and he dreaded that day with all his heart. He shoved it to the back of his mind. He didn't contradict his friend on this matter, however. Now was not the time. She was on edge enough without him pushing her off it.

"I certainly will," was all he said as drops of rain from Catarina's coat spattered onto his face.

"Right. I've got to get back to Madzie."

"Bring her next time," Magnus smiled as he thought of the little warlock girl he rescued. So much hardship and grief in her young life. He wanted no more to ever touch her. He couldn't shelter her forever, though.

"As if I could wrestle her off of Alec," she smiled, pulling up her hood. She clicked her fingers and lilac sparks materialized into an umbrella. It was black and plain. Magnus would have added glitter. As she closed the door behind her, he thought of Mitchell. He thought of the surname 'Freeworld'. Where had he heard it? Perhaps it was an old Shadowhunter name, such as Herondale or Fairchild. He picked his phone off of the counter top and searched his contacts. The first name to appear was 'Alexander'. His finger hovered over the screen. He didn't press it. He turned to look out of the large, balcony window. Rain pattered against it. It was cold and dark outside. Grey and black were the only colours above, and yellow New York lights shone below, distorted through the panes.

He turned off his phone.

Izzy kicked the punching bag again and again. She knew she should have been happy that they defeated Valentine just two and a half weeks before. Though Jace acted strange sometimes, everyone else seemed happy. But looks could be deceiving. As she peeled back the layers of the people she knew, cared about or loved, she could see through the cracks of their smiles.

She thought of her parents, unable to stay in the same room as each other. Though Maryse was strong, she was broken in ways a Shadowhunter never should be. She was brokenhearted. Izzy hated Robert for that.

She thought of Max, who was so strong and brave for a nine year old. He was proud of himself for standing up to Sebastian, or Jonathan as they should have called him, but never did. If you looked close enough though, you could see the fear within his eyes. He had crawled to her room, injured and bleeding, before passing out, and she wasn't there for him. Sebastian had nearly killed him, and she couldn't imagine the fear that ran through him, knowing that he couldn't fight back, couldn't win. He wasn't as good as Sebastian. He wasn't good enough.

Alec was happy now, she knew that. Magnus made him happy. They belonged together, and only to each other. Anyone could see that, even Maryse could, though she preferred to look away. One day Robert would. One day Alec would be able to look every one of the Lightwoods in the eye, with his love by his side, and be happy. He was there with Izzy, he was as there as he was going to get with Max, but his parents would be there one day. There with him and with Magnus. One day…

Jace was victorious. Jace was a champion. Of course he knew that. Or at least he should have. But ever since the battle at Lake Lyn with Valentine, he was different. He wasn't Jace. She couldn't place it, but she had presumed he had shocked himself. His father was dead. Not his biological father, and not his adoptive Lightwood father, but the one in the middle. The one that shaped him so brutally into the warrior he had become. He hated him. He was a monster. He was still his father, neither biological nor adoptive, but now he was gone.

Clary was Valentine's daughter, but she felt no love loss for him. He was a monster and she saw that. She was the hero of the hour, she was the heroine from the storybooks. But she had lost the most important part of her in the most terrible way possible. Jocelyn should have celebrated her glory with them, with her, but she wasn't. It wasn't just Clary affected. Alec had guilt so crippling, had Magnus not arrived just in time, he would be dead now too. Luke had lost his the love of his life. It's so strange how one person can influence so many, but there it is.

Finally, she thought of herself. Her addiction had destroyed her, but she was strong. She was resilient, and she, despite how awful she felt, was a good Shadowhunter. She wasn't weak, and she wasn't afraid. She thought of Raphael, how they could never work, and she knew that in her heart, but how she wished they could. How one vampire could get under her skin so much, she didn't understand. Their relationship was one based on addiction and unhealthy desires. As Raphael said, one slip up, and they could be back there. How mundane. How _mundane_ addictions were. Angel-blooded creatures should be better than that. Perhaps there was a little bit of mundane in everyone, whether human, Nephilim or Downworlder.

She punched the bag too hard. It spun off of the rack, landing with a thump. Hey knuckles were bruised and bloody, and her jet black hair stuck to her back and forehead. Her clothes were sticky and her make-up ran down her face. She looked like she had been crying. Only when she reached up and felt the wetness of her cheeks, did she realize she had been. Crying was for mundanes, too. She dragged the back for her hand across her eyes and went to pick up the bag.

"Isabelle," came a voice from behind her. It was Robert's, why he was in the Institute right now was a mystery, but she didn't turn around straight away. She did it slow and carefree, as to show him that she was still angry with him. That she might always be.

"Yes?" she muttered, then jolted. He wasn't alone. Standing beside him was a taller man in a grey suit and feathery white hair. He stared at her, and she felt scrutinized under his gaze. She felt uneasy with just a black training tank top on. She shrugged on her hoodie, despite her being too hot for it, just to cover up. He was freaking her out. His ice cold eyes were strange. One worked, the other was either lazy or glass.

"This is my daughter, Isabelle," Robert said, gesturing to her. The man nodded in curt response. "Izzy, this is Mitchell Freeworld, the new Manhattan Consul." Izzy nodded. He would be like Aldertree, she already knew that much, but at least Aldertree was pleasant to look at.

"And the boys?" Mitchell's voice was gravelly. Aldertree had a nice voice, at least. Robert paled slightly. Izzy wondered why.

"Well, the youngest is Max, he's only nine, but he's got a great future ahead of him. In fact, once he took on Jon…"

"I want to hear about the other one. Alan or something? The one with the demon blooded boyfriend." Izzy's fists tightened. She heard her father gargle a noise in his throat before pressing forward.

"Alexander. My eldest. Head of the Institute."

"Where is he? Surely the Head should answer to the Consul. Or at the very least, welcome him in." Mitchell stifled a laugh before reaching out a hand to pat Robert's shoulder mockingly. "Or, do you already _know_ where he is?" Robert's face reddened in embarrassment. If he wasn't going to stick up for her brother, she would.

"I don't see how having a warlock partner makes him any less capable of running the Institute." Her ferocity shocked even herself. Mitchell seemed amused. Robert looked like he wanted to die.

"It's not the sexual orientation that intrigues me," he scoffed. "I know gay people. I know gay _Shadowhunters_. I don't, however, know Shadowhunter who _openly_ goes out with a _Downworlder_. What did you say it was, a warlock?" He spoke of Magnus as if he were a half-breed of dog. "No offence, Robert, but I'd be worried, if I were you. The Angel only knows how dangerous that kind of thing can be when you get it pissed off. One argument about curtain colours, and your son is toasted Nephilim. In fact…" He never got to finish. Maryse whipped into the room behind the men, her voice welcoming, yet clipped.

"Consul Freeworld," she smiled, though it was fake and icy. "Perhaps you have seen enough of the training facility. I assure you there are more interesting parts of the Institute yet to explore." She stepped aside to let the men pass, Robert ducking his eyes not to meet her gaze. She locked eyes with her daughter and gave a sad smile.

She heard everything.


	2. Chapter 2 - Language of Eyes

**Chapter Two**

 **Eyes Have Their Own Vocabulary – What a Beautiful Language to Learn.**

Magnus watched his phone ring. It was Alec on the other end of it. He wanted nothing more than to hear his boyfriend's voice, to talk to him. He wanted to see him and hug him and kiss him. He needed to tell him he loved him and to hear it back. He still didn't answer though. He couldn't stop thinking of Freeworld. Couldn't understand how he knew him, yet he didn't at the same time. He would have preferred him a perfect stranger. At least then he could be at peace. The phone stopped ringing and the screen went back to normal. Seven missed calls from Alexander. As well as some texts.

'Hey, u OK?'

'Do you want company?'

The High Warlock of Brooklyn didn't know what was wrong with him. Why was he acting like this? He wanted nothing more than to text him back, say he was OK, say yes, in fact he did want company. He craved it, and only from Alexander. It wasn't just Alec, though. He didn't make contact with Raphael yet, nor anyone else for that matter. He didn't understand those, but he did understand Alec. Alec had come so far, in every way possible. He had grown up and into the strongest man Magnus had ever known. He was trying so hard to unite the Downworld with the Clave. Magnus didn't want to be the one to destroy that. Not until he looked into Mitchell some more. He just needed to be alone. He just needed…

A knock on the door. Not Clary's persistent bashings, not Jace's single knock. Not Catarina's slow yet everlasting hammerings. This was two gentle knocks. Two knuckles on the door. This was Alec.

Magnus stood, then walked to the door. He absentmindedly fixed his collar, not that Alec would mind messy attire, but if Magnus ever wanted to teach his love the glorious art of fanciness, he needed to stick by his guns. Magnus opened the door, and straight away he smiled. Alec stood there, messy hair and grubby black gear. He was just back from a mission. His hair was wet, so he must have walked from the Institute in the rain to see him. To see his love. He was all Magnus needed right now.

"Hey, you," Alec's deep voice made Magnus' stomach leap. He opened the door and let him in.

"Hello, Alexander," he retorted, planting a kiss on Alec's lips. It was short, and not nearly enough, but Alec could sense there was something wrong.

"There's something bothering you," Alec cupped the back of Magnus' neck, eyes embedded intently into his, and Magnus played with a loose lock of Alec's hair. He could pretend, for now. He smiled.

"Nothing is bothering me," Magnus said as he kissed Alec again. It was slow and this time it lasted. It didn't last as long as either of them would have liked, though.

"You said that before…" Alec said between kisses, "…and there was something wrong."

"Alexander, I'm fine," Magnus laughed. Alec raised an eyebrow.

"You said that too."

"All that is wrong with me…" Magnus started as he gripped Alec's shirt, (which was grubby with the Angel only _knew_ what, so it was better off of him anyway) "…is that I've missed you."

"I was gone _a day_ ," Alec said, copying his boyfriend and tugging at his clothing. Magnus shrugged off his jacket and smiled.

"To me, that's an eternity." Suddenly, he felt a twinge in his eyes. A quick flash across his vision. He knew what was happening. His glamour fell and climbed back into his eyes, despite his battle for control. One second they were human, the next they were feral. He was fighting with himself. Fighting with his demons. He didn't want to lose control, he didn't _ever_ want to lose control, but it seemed a smaller problem now than it did before. He didn't mind showing his eyes when he was in control. Not when he was locked out of himself. When he lost himself. However, at this moment in time, he didn't know why, he remembered Max, who freaked out at the sight of his true form.

 _'How much demon is in you?'_

He admitted it may have been frightening. One moment he was somewhat human, the next he wasn't. He was a monster.

Without noticing, he pulled away from Alec, and reached up to his eyes.

 _Not now! Please not now! I am in control. I am in control. I am not a monster. I am not a monster. I am not. A. Monster._

He rubbed his eyes so hard they hurt, his head down, as if in shame. Maybe it was. He felt as if he was underwater. Everything sounded distorted as he fought with himself. As he fought with his demons. He was vaguely aware of his name being called. He was spun back to face Alec, Alec holding Magnus by both shoulders. His hearing restored, but his he could still feel his eyes. They were still animal. They were still feral. He didn't want to show them. He _never_ wanted to show them. Not like this.

"Magnus! Stop! Magnus!" Alec pulled him closer, and to his dismay, Magnus did what he was asked. He dropped his hands from his eyes, and Alec grabbed the right one, holding it and stroking his thumb over the warlock's soft skin in crescent moons. He moved his other hand to Magnus' face, cupping his cheek and running through the same motions. Magnus tried to smile, but his eyes stayed staring at the floor. He would not look into Alec's eyes. "Magnus, _please_ , look at me." Alec pulled him closer. The only recognition on Magnus' behalf was a smile. He reached up to Alec's hand on his cheek, holding it in place. He still wasn't in control. Perhaps he didn't need to be. "Magnus…" The warlock raised his eyes. Amber, fiery cat eyes met soft brown pools. Alec smiled. "There," he smiled. "Just as they always are. Beautiful." He leaned forward, leaning his forehead against Magnus'. He wondered what he would do without this particular Lightwood. Like neither of his parents, and so much better.

Alec pulled him into a tight hug, one they both needed. Magnus buried his head into his boyfriend's shoulder. Alec could smell the sandalwood in Magnus' styled hair, and wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever. When they pulled away, Magnus was smiling again. His eyes were human, and while that gave Magnus back his sense of control, it disappointed Alec. He loved his cat eyes. They were a part of Magnus, and even though Magnus was not proud of them, Alec felt he should have been. They were his mark. It was what made him what he was - a warlock. Why was he ashamed of that? For what some cunning demon did hundreds of years ago? Something that wasn't even his fault?

For the moment however, Alec was just happy to see that Magnus had calmed down. In fact, in place on his face was his cheeky grin.

"Now, Alexander. Where were we?"

Clary and Isabelle tried their best to shield themselves from the rain. They wished they hired a taxi, but at least this gave the girls a chance to talk.

"Both our parents were ex-Circle members, Izzy," Clary said as she trotted behind Isabelle. "As were many others. We don't have to fear this guy. Plus, he left _before_ the Uprising…"

"You didn't _see_ him though," Izzy almost hissed, her black hair shining under the street lamps. The moon was full tonight, so Clary presumed Luke was with Maia and the pack. She turned her attention back to Izzy. "There's something about him. He's...weird. I tried to check him up on the records, but all it says is that he was in the Circle before the Uprising, but never took part in the battle. Therefore he was never punished. My parents were punished, Hodge was punished. Freeworld doesn't have clean hands, I know it. Even the way he spoke of Magnus…he thinks of Downworlders as half-breeds. Demonic half-breeds. Well, warlocks anyway."

"So what's our plan then? Go in there, tell Magnus some guy hates him and leave?" Izzy rolled her eyes and was about to retort when something caught her eye. A flash in the shadows. She stopped and reached for her seraph blade, her hand hovering over the hilt. Clary gripped her stele tightly, so tightly her fingers turned white. There hadn't been much demonic activity since Valentine was defeated and the rift was sealed. An occasional demon here and there, but nothing too exciting. Even the mission Jace and Alec were on earlier that day had led to nothing but a few minor demons. Izzy wanted excitement, she wanted her Nephilim spark, she wanted…

Raphael stepped quietly out of the shadows, hands held out in surrender. Clary never lost her grip on the stele as she watched him. He was one vampire that she cared not to trust. Izzy, on the other hand, dropped her hostility. He gave a smile directed at the raven haired girl, and simply nodded his head in Clary's direction.

"You're going to see Magnus?" he asked. His voice seemed to purr and lilt at the same time. She nodded, but couldn't hold back her smile. He simply gave a quick upturn of his lips, but something about him was off. "Then I'll come with you."

"Way to invite yourself," Clary mumbled as she put her stele back in her pocket. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, but said nothing.

"I take it you know about the Consul then?" Izzy asked, taking a step closer to him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before Raphael looked down. He nodded, his eyes fixated on her shoes.

"I knew about the Consul before the Consul did," he fixed on a smile. Clary was glad to see his fangs weren't out. She still didn't trust him. "Vampires are very…informative."

"I can only imagine," Izzy smiled. Their eyes met again, this time for longer. Clary didn't like the intimacy of others. She found it awkward. She coughed.

"Eh-hem," she muttered. "Magnus?" Raphael simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. If looks could kill, Isabelle would have murdered Clary seven times before she hit the ground.

"Magnus," he repeated.

Clary's persistent bashings echoed through the loft. Isabelle realized at this very moment, with Clary's innocence and Raphael's sober persona standing at both sides of her in the small corridor outside of Magnus' door, a minor detail. Alec might be in there. Alec might be with Magnus. In the loft. Wanting _privacy_. It was a sudden wash of humorous horror. Had she been there on her own, it would have been funny, cute even, but she felt both embarrassment and guilty as Clary knocked. She was interrupting a moment to deliver bad news. With someone at her side that Alec didn't particularly like…actually, with _two_ people Alec didn't particularly like. The door swung open. Alec stood in the doorway. He was completely dressed, thank the Angel, though his hair was ruffled. He saw Izzy (raised an eyebrow) and saw Clary (raised the other eyebrow). His eyes then landed on Raphael, who stifled a smile, glancing at Alec's messy hair and grubby, rumpled clothes. Alec scowled.

"The _hell_ are you doing here?" Alec growled. Izzy didn't know who he was talking to, but Clary answered.

"Sorry to intrude…" she began.

"We've just got something to tell you, being the Head of the Institute we thought you should know…" Izzy finished, but Alec's eyes were still glued to the offending vampire standing right next to Izzy. Too close to Izzy.

"And this couldn't have waited an hour?" Alec grumbled peeling his eyes away from him and turning to glare at the girls.

"I sense hostility," purred a voice from behind him. Alec's face instantly softened, turning to the side to look back at his love. Izzy squeezed in, whipping her hair into her big brother's face.

"Hey, Magnus," she smiled, adding an air of extra friendliness to her tone. The warlock emerged from his study, courteous and accommodating as always. Unlike Alec, he was perfect. His hair remained styled and his clothes without a crease. It was amazing what magic could do. Izzy bit her lip to stop her smile.

"Isabelle," he nodded, walking towards her and the door. Alec left to join him, with his signature scent of bitterness and frustration lingering behind him. "Biscuit." Clary rolled her eyes at the pet name, but smiled. "And…Raphael. Don't just stand there. I want to close my door." Raphael stalked past Alec, his scent of superiority and pride intoxicating Alec. He restrained himself from banging the door shut.

"This is about…?" Alec huffed, crossing his arms and standing next to his boyfriend.

"The new Consul," Magnus finished, his tone low and defeated. He glanced down. That uneasy feeling in his stomach was back, like a hangover after a night's worth of drinking. Alec had been a blissful distraction, but now he was forced to think about it again. It wrecked his head. Freeworld…Freeworld. Where had he heard that name?! Alec looked blank. He was the Head of the Institute. Shouldn't he have known?

"A new Consul? For Manhattan?" To Alec's utter annoyance, Raphael answered.

"Mitchell Freeworld. Hardly a worthy candidate. Ex-Circle member. As discriminatory to Downworlders as they come. Surely _you_ knew, Shadowhunter?" Alec's blood boiled at Raphael's smugness.

"Play nice," Magnus uttered. Raphael still smiled.

"We didn't know either, if it makes you feel better," Clary offered. It didn't make him feel better. It made him feel worse, actually. Clary turned to Raphael and Magnus, stepping back to look at both at the same time. "How did _you_ guys know?"

"Vampires are very informative," Raphael repeated. Magnus rolled his eyes.

"The thing is, I've heard of the Freeworld's before. I just can't place it," the warlock ran a hand through his hair. Clary was sure she could see glitter on the strands as he carried out the motion. "I've researched. I've read. I've asked everyone. But I _know_ it. I know I've dealt with them before. I just don't understand it." Alec understood now why Magnus seemed out of character earlier. He wished he had told him. He could have helped him. He was about to speak when Raphael interjected.

"My clan are unhappy," he purred. "Too many of us have died helping the Shadowhunters, defending _against_ Shadowhunters and even minding our own damn business from Shadowhunters. All past positions of power in the New York Institute have been nothing if not aggressive towards us. Aldertree, Herondale, the Lightwoods…no offence." He turned to Izzy. "Finally, though I hate to admit it, you have a half-decent Head, and you throw in another _goddamn Circle member_!" Magnus was silent. He remembered the fear in Catarina's eyes, and now he could see Raphael's.

"You're worried about the vampires?" Clary asked. Raphael locked eyes with Magnus, as if to ask _'is this not the most stupid Nephilim in all of New York?'_ Magnus looked away.

"He's worried about _Downworlders_ ," Magnus muttered as he walked towards his desk. He traced his fingers along the cover of a book lying on top of it. It was the last thing Ragnor ever gave him. Everything was written in Hebrew, so Magnus could struggle through it, but not fantastically well. He preferred not to read it, to just have it. His heart plummeted. The Circle had killed Ragnor, and his death would never be avenged. His death was for nothing.

"You OK?" Magnus could hear Alec ask him, but he had no answer. He couldn't stop a man becoming elected if he couldn't even remember his blasted name. He spun, keeping his gaze focused on the boots of the Shadowhunters, not raising his eyes to anyone else's.

"For now," he answered eventually. "There is nothing we can do. We can't stop a man with no charges. As far as the Clave is concerned, he is innocent. Even more innocent than Hodge and the Lightwoods. Even more innocent than Luke." Magnus was about to mention Jocelyn, but held back when he saw Clary. She understood.

" _Innocent_? _Dios_ , are you _kidding_ me?" Raphael all but shouted. His hands were balled into fists by his side and he all but shook with rage. "How innocent can he be if he was in the Circle? How does one claim innocence when they _willingly_ join a Downworld hate club? No, actually, a Downworld _murder_ club. Throwing silver on lycanthropes, tying iron onto faeries, all but frying the Night's Children…and the warlocks weren't safe either. You must have heard tales, Magnus, of the rowan whips? And that's just the training. Even if he left before the Uprising, we was still a part of _that_. Even though they may not be dead, there are disfigured, maimed Downworlders walking all over the world baring the cruel marks of the Circle. And what's even more sickening, is that they are the _lucky_ ones. They are _alive_." Raphael finished his rant with an exhale. Clary, Alec and Izzy avoided the gaze of the Downworlders. Clary must have heard of the punishments, the murders. The torture. She and the Lightwoods at her left were innocent. It wasn't their fault who their parents were before they were born. Robert and Maryse, both ex-Circle members. Jocelyn, and even Luke, both ex-Circle members. Her father was the _founder_ of the Circle. She wondered why Magnus didn't hate them. Why Raphael didn't kill them the first change he got. How were the Downworlders so forgiving?

The answer? They had to be. Rogue Downworlders died.

"I understand, Raphael." Magnus sought out his eyes, and intentionally, his glamour fell. His amber cat eyes glinted with the same sadness and frustration as Raphael's. This man, centuries younger than Magnus, though decades older than anyone else in this room, was like a son to him. He was blunt and stubborn and made rash decisions, but he was not a bad person, and Magnus would always feel the need to protect him. "I understand."

Those words, however simple, however cliché, were enough to send self-awareness, soberness, back into the Night's Child. He looked down as Magnus' eyes shifted back to human. With a curt nod, he sighed.

"I know."


	3. Chapter 3 - Monsters Inside Us

Chapter Three

We Stopped Checking for Monsters Underneath our Beds, When We Realized They Were Inside of Us.

Clary and Izzy had left soon after Raphael's outburst. They all but dragged Alec with them, not taking no for an answer. They needed to talk to Robert. Failing that, they needed to talk to Maryse.

"I'll see you in the morning, I promise," was the last thing Alec said to Magnus, quickly planting a soft kiss on the warlock's lips. It was late, though Magnus wasn't in the mood for sleeping. In fact, with a click of his fingers, blue sparks, tinged with the red of his frustration, a martini appeared.

"Is it not a bit late for drinking?" Raphael muttered as he leaned against the wall of the loft. He rose himself from the position and made his way over to the bookshelf. He had stayed behind as the others left. He needed to talk to another Downworlder, _without_ the influence of Nephilim.

"It's never too late for drinking."

"You realize there is something greater going on," Raphael muttered as he dragged a volume from its dusty place on the shelf. It was heavy for its small size. It was written in Dutch. Raphael put it back.

"Of course. When isn't there?" Magnus refilled his glass as he slugged the contents down. Raphael eyed him, but said nothing. "Well then, what else do you know?"

"It's not so much what I know…more what I fear. I find looking back through history that bad men in power lead to bad things."

" _Alexander_ is the Head of the Institute. The Consul can only offer advice and report to and from the Clave. He still abides by Alec." Raphael licked his lips, a habit he carried out when things were not looking admirable.

"True," he muttered, running his slender fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf. Some centuries old, some younger than the cats on the roof. "But Alec abides by Robert. Alec may be the figure head, but his parents are always there. They always will be. Maryse and Robert Lightwood will always be the Heads of the Institute. Alec can play the big man when times are fine, but when it all falls to crap, when it all hits the fan, where do you find Robert? Idris, of course. _Being_ the boss. Where do you find Maryse? Still in the Institute and still giving orders. Alec will just step to the side when all this goes pear shaped. When the 'superior' Nephilim are bored of treating us right."

"Things are _changing_ , Raphael. And that is all down to Alexander." Magnus placed the glass on the counter and crossed his arms. His eyes scanned the Night's Child ahead of him. Why be so accommodating to Isabelle and not to her brother? How was she a less threatening Shadowhunter than Alec?

"Things change, Magnus. They always do. But sooner or later, they fall back. We've both been around long enough to see that. Especially you." Magnus was about to fire back a comment, anything to protect his boyfriend when Alec had done absolutely nothing but include the Downworld. He stopped and considered for a moment. Raphael was not simply throwing shade on Alexander, or even the Lightwoods.

He was genuinely scared.

Magnus was powerful, therefore fear was usually no problem to face. Magnus did know fear, though. He knew the cold feeling of dread as it was discovered that he could do nothing. He knew of the heart stopping, gut clenching, stomach dropping symptoms of such fear.

He remembered the fear he felt when he arrived up on the roof the day of Max's party, and found Alec standing on the ledge. The scariest thing of all? He actually jumped. If he was one second later…

He remembered the death of Ragnor. That was a different type of fear. A fear of living without him. A fear of feeling his loss every day.

He remembered another fear. The worst fear of all. A fear of himself.

 _His mother's body lay on her bed, blood pooled around the dagger in her heart. Who did this? Who did this to his mother? He called her name, as a sudden realization hit his child heart._ He _had done this. Well, she had done this to herself,_ because _of him. How could his mother hate her son so much, that she could take her own life?_

 _His scream. His stepfather's voice. The shouting. The anger that burned through his veins. The pain shooting up his arms, like drops of gasoline in a fire place. His fingers ached. It was his imagination. There were no red sparks around his fingers. None. He was fine. He was normal. The eyes were genetic. He could keep them normal. Human. He had no cat eyes – no demon eyes. They were a party trick. He was told by every high priest and elder to keep them hidden. They were demon eyes. They were evil._ He _was evil._

 _'Abomination.' Brown eyes? He had brown eyes? No, now they were yellow. Bright yellow. Black slits for pupils. He could see the same, but it was as if the world was in high definition. A shocked face. The sense of someone else's fear. Man, strong able-bodied man, why are you afraid of a child? Why do eyes scare you so? Hands? Why look at his hands, man. There are no red sparks. They do not exist. You imagine the same as the child._

 _Pain laced though his fingers. Eyes stung from tears and his mouth trembled in a hard set line. You hate this boy, man? He is an abomination? Do you not know this child already hates himself? That he calls himself an abomination every single day? Because of eyes. Because of eyes and blue sparks. Why are they now red?_

 _Flames. He had made flames. With his hands. It didn't burn him, but how it burned the man. Demon. They will hunt you down, child. You are not human. You are demon. Sent from the very depths of hell. Go and hide child. Hide wherever you want._

 _But you can't run forever. And you can't hide from yourself._

"Magnus?"

 _You can't run forever._

"Magnus, are you OK? You don't look so good."

 _You can't hide from yourself._

" _Dios_ , Magnus. Snap out of it." Fingers clicked in front of his face. His head snapped up, and his vision cleared. His mark was out, he didn't realize he had lost his glamour. As if in a daze, he looked around. Raphael stared at him in concern. He opened and closed his mouth, as if to ask something, but thought better of it. "Told you it was too late for drinking," he offered instead. Magnus steadied himself.

"Raphael, I will look into Mitchell Freeworld, and you do the same. That is all we can do. I am not embarking on a solo mission to get rid of a Consul. Until I get indication that this man wants me, you and all other Downworlders dead, I will do no more." Raphael blinked, sighed and nodded.

"If that is what you ask of me, it is what I shall deliver." Raphael made his way past Magnus. His eyes were human again. Raphael didn't notice them change back. He and Magnus were friends, and were selectively close. It was a mix of the closeness of friends and a nephew to an eccentric, estranged uncle. Raphael had gained a very high level of respect for the warlock, and vise versa. The past was something that Raphael preferred to have hidden, locked away in a cabinet at the back of his heart. He did not, however, forget the kindness Magnus had showed him back when he himself was just a fledgling. The other Downworlder slid down onto the sofa, weariness from staying up so late getting the better of him. However, Raphael needed to say one more thing before he left.

"Magnus, know this," he stated, clearly and with all the passion of a public speaker. "I, nor you, nor any other innocent Downworlder out there, including that Lewis clown, are dispensable to the Nephilim. We have demon blood, but we have worth. You and me, we have demon blood coursing through our veins, you more so than I, but we still have _human_ blood mixed among it. We are not the monsters they paint us out to be in the children's storybooks. One man's warped image of a vampire, I can tell you for certain, is not mine. I did not chose this. I did not chose to leave my mother and Rosa while they aged and I didn't. It is not my fault I am like this. It is not your fault _you_ are like _you_." With all the grace a vampire possessed, Raphael sauntered out of the room. Magnus heard the door open, then silently close. Alone was better for thinking, but when you were trying to evade your thoughts, it was the worst place to be.

Jace Herondale was informed of the Consul as soon as Alec found him early the next morning. His Parabatai was training by himself, kicking the man-shaped dummy with strength that would shatter its bones if it were real.

"So?" was his answer. "Basically everyone here was in the Circle at one stage in their lives. Hey, _all_ _four_ of my fathers were."

"I just think we should consider complaining to the Clave. I'm the Head. I can file a report on a background check, get his paperwork in order…"

"You will do _no_ such thing." Robert Lightwood appeared from out of nowhere behind him. Jace jolted (Jace _never_ jolted) and Alec turned to stare him down.

"Why the hell not?"

"Alec, listen to me. The Lightwoods have pissed off so many people, I for one, am surprised we can still _live_ in the Institute, never mind run it."

"That's hardly _my_ fault. Or the Downworld's." There was an edge as sharp as blade to Alec's retort. Robert winced.

"I know what you think. I know what _everyone_ thinks. I just had Lucian bark down my throat about the whole thing. But he requested filling in the long-absent position of Manhattan Consul, and the Clave approved it. It's done, Alec. He's not particularly pleasant, but he's not evil. He's no different from any other Consul around."

"Not to the Downworld, he's not." Alec was a bit like Robert. He didn't look like him, he didn't have his demeanor, but he had his stubbornness.

"I'll leave you two talk it out," hissed Jace. The Herondale patted his Parabatai on the shoulder before walking away. He didn't want to be caught in the middle of a Lightwood showdown.

" _I'm_ the Head," Alec hissed as Robert began to turn and follow him.

"I know," he answered.

"Then why does it feel like I'm not and you still are?" Alec barked. Some Shadowhunters working near him turned to stare, only to quickly look away as soon as their eyes met the fire and fury of Robert's.

"Listen to me, son. I don't want to fight with you, but the Lightwoods _need_ the Institute. If we're seen as unfit to run it, they'll cast us out. We have messed up so many times, your mother and I. Just let us handle this. Then, everything else will be in your control."

"There are hardly any records of this man, Dad. Do you not find that the least bit suspicious?" Alec asked. Robert's uneven sigh was answer enough. He looked around to see if anyone was listening, then carried on.

"Honestly, yes. Yes I do. But Alec, I have _triple_ checked with the Clave about this man. He is legitimate. Maybe a past extremist, but if the Clave thinks he's OK to take this position, then we cannot argue. You don't have to like him, Alec. You just have to work with him." Robert clapped Alec on the back as he left, much to his son's annoyance. If Magnus didn't trust this man, then he wouldn't either. He didn't want to have to go back home to his boyfriend and give him bad news. News that showed no one cared. Had it been a 'past extremist' warlock or werewolf, it would have been scandalous. It would have never even been tolerated. He didn't understand why the Nephilim saw themselves as so much more important. He began to walk away, when someone caught his eye. Maryse stood at the banister, looking down on Alec. She gave a sad smile, as if to say ' _well, you tried at least_ '. Trying wasn't good enough.

"Alec," she called down. He didn't answer, just clenched his jaw in annoyance. Izzy appeared behind her, a smile of pride on her face. "Izzy's had a tremendous idea to welcome Mr. Freeworld." Alec was about to explode back an answer when Izzy shot him a look. ' _Trust her_ ' it seemed to say. "Tonight, we're having a dinner. A formal, sophisticated dinner." Alec's shoulders slumped. Why would he want to eat across from a potential Aldertree? Izzy sauntered down the steps, with all the grace of a dancer.

"I thought it would be the perfect mix of intimacy and formality," she smiled, bright white teeth. "I thought maybe it would be the perfect chance for introductions." Maryse leaned across the banister above them, knowing eyes glinting from the witchlight lamp beside her.

"Yes. Fabulous idea, isn't it? Mr. Freeworld may not have had the chance to meet our Downworld leaders. Alec, you bring Magnus." Alec remained silent. He knew what his mother was getting at. It was ingenious on her behalf. Have Mitchell Freeworld surrounded by Downworlders he had to be pleasant to. It would soon be discovered if he still possessed the thoughts of the Circle, or if he didn't. "Isabelle, if you wouldn't mind inviting Raphael, and Clary can get in touch with Lucian. We should have all of the representatives, then. Clary can even bring her vampire friend."

"What about the Fair Folk? Meliorn?"

"It is not a meeting, Alec," Maryse clipped. She pulled some hair behind her ear. "The Folk tend to twist things. We want a friendly gathering. Besides, I don't think it would be Meliorn's sort of thing." Izzy snickered.

"That," she said as she stepped beside Alec, "and we don't want to alert the Folk. They tend to…overreact."

"They're not going to go for it," Alec muttered bluntly. "Magnus and Raphael already feel uneasy about him. Luke launched into Dad about it. They're not going to sit down to dinner with him."

"That's where your wrong, big brother," Izzy jeered. "They'll come alright. Just leave it to me.

"No."

"No? What do you mean 'no'? Did you not hear my plan?"

"I'm sure 'no' is a universal term, Isabelle. And I heard your plan. He's not a faerie. He can lie." Izzy stood outside the front door of the Dumort. The sun was still out, so the subject to her speech stayed halfway down the corridor, hidden in the shadows from the sun's light.

"Raphael, I want you to see for yourself the way he feels about Downworlders. Then you can't point fingers. This is an olive branch, Raphael, please take it."

"I'm not sure about this, Isabelle…"

"Besides," she said, stepping into the hotel, despite the fact that she was technically fair game to the vampires now, "I'd miss you there."

"I'm sure you wouldn't." There was a hint of a grin in his tone.

"Seriously?" she asked, closing the space between them. "You're making me go _on my own_? What if there's trouble, and a demon whisks me away to Edom and my knight in shining armor is nowhere to be seen?"

"There wouldn't be all that much _I_ could do," Raphael muttered dryly. He smiled anyway. "I'm sure Magnus would be of more help to you if that were to happen."

"If you're suggesting I start an adulterous romance with my older brother's boyfriend, then I may be regretting asking you as my escort." He gulped, then chanced another step forward. He was still in the shadows.

"If you can tell me that I will be able to come back to the Dumort _before_ sunrise in _one_ _piece_ , then I may…consider. No promises, though." She smiled. She knew he'd eventually come around to her idea. He, however, could still change his mind. She needed to seal the deal.

"Thank you. We'll look forward to your arrival." She leaned deeper into the shadows, and planted a quiet kiss on the vampire's cheek. Raphael didn't pull away. When she left, she spun quickly, boot heels clicking on the floor. She embraced the sunlight outside, and the door of the Dumort banged closed.

When Alec entered the loft, he noticed two other people littered round the room. Magnus opened the door, looking marvelous as always in his collar-studded wine velvet jacket. Alec wanted to kiss him then, so badly, but stopped himself. There was a woman and child in the room.

"Alec!" the child roared. The fluffy haired assailant launched herself into Alec's arms.

"Hey there, Madzie!" Alec laughed. He had missed the warlock child. Catarina hardly came over, well, not often enough anyway. He had been busy lately, but the warlock community seemed to work as wonderful distractions. "I've missed you." Madzie gave a girly laugh and he lowered her to the ground. Alec caught Catarina's eye. She seemed to notice that Alec was here for business.

"Madzie," she called from her place on the couch. "Why don't you play with Chairman Meow?" She nodded in excitement, and Magnus paled.

"Rest in peace, Chairman," he muttered as Madzie began hunting down the cat's whereabouts. Magnus could see him on a top shelf, hidden from sight. He wouldn't give away his location. "What's this about?"

" _I_ didn't come up with this…" Alec began. "You can turn this down…don't feel obliged…"

"What is it, Alexander?" Alec suddenly felt conscious in front of Catarina. She didn't seem to think of herself as a third wheel. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Tonight, Freeworld is coming to the Institute. There's going to be a dinner. A sort of…Downworld dinner. Luke, Raphael and Simon will be there. It's Izzy's plan to see if Freeworld still has…tendencies from the Circle." Magnus said nothing at first. Truth was, Alec _hated_ the plan. Sure, he could see the reasons why this could work, but he could only imagine the nightmare of a night this would be for Magnus, and for the other Downworlders. If this man was like they thought he was, then he could have no filter. The hate that could pour from this man's mouth…

"Of course he'll go," Catarina insisted. Magnus' head snapped towards her. As if he could say no now. "And I'll go too."

"Self-invitations are always very classy," Magnus jeered. She shrugged. The warlock woman pulled herself up from the couch. She was wearing her nurse's scrubs again. It was all she ever seemed to wear.

"Listen here, Bane," she hissed. "I have worked four fifteen hour shifts in the past week. My feet are numb, I'm going to get varicose veins, and no offence, but if I have to go one more day without alcohol while he drinks," she pointed an accusing finger at Magnus, "I will have an emotional breakdown. So, yes, Alexander Lightwood, I _am_ coming to your dinner / spy mission. I'm sure one of my friends could look after Madzie for _one_ night."

"Do you own clothes other than scrubs?" Magnus jeered. "Don't get me wrong, they are stylish as hell, but for a formal dinner…"

"Oh shut up," she grumbled as she stretched. She nodded her head at Alec. "So tell your sister we'll be there. We'll _both_ be there." Alec looked at Magnus, his perfectly lined eyes focused on glaring at his best friend.

"Yes, Alexander. We will _both_ see you there."

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 _This is my very first fanfiction, and I'd like to say thank you for the kind reviews that I've received this far. It means the world to me and it is very kind of you! - S._


	4. Chapter 4 - Weak and Drunken Heart

**Chapter Four**

 **God Knows What is Hiding in That Weak and Drunken Heart**

"Jeez…I didn't know this was a suit and tie sort of thing…" Jace snickered as he elbowed Robert.

"It's a meeting with the Consul, Jace. We should be dressed appropriately," he shot back. He was wearing a black dinner jacket and a white shirt. Jace, however, was simply wearing a navy shirt and jeans.

"I just didn't think it would be all…fancy."

"It's not," Alec mumbled. He wore the same as Jace, though there were glittery cuff-links at the bottom of the sleeves. It was undoubtedly Magnus'.

"Boys! The effort here is deplorable!" Izzy jeered as she entered the room. She wore a silver dress, her whip in its usual place around her wrist. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back. She was dressed to impress…or seduce, neither Jace nor Alec could tell. At the doorway, Maryse stood, more of a spectator than a member. She wore the same as she wore every day, with the exception of a small pair of green earrings. Alec wondered how she would face a dinner with Robert when they couldn't even stay in the same room together. She held her grace though, as she always did. It was clear that this was Izzy's idea. Maryse would be an onlooker. Meanwhile, Robert was taking this matter solely into his own hands.

"The Consul shall sit here, and I'll sit here…Alec, you sit at the head, Izzy and Jace on either side…Clary will be here…Maryse…" he paused, a blush etching across his cheeks. Maryse made no comment, but strode towards the table, pulled out a random chair, not next to the Consul's appointed seat, and sat.

"I'll sit _here_ ," she stated, taking a sip from her wine glass. Robert nodded sheepishly.

"Will Max be coming?" Izzy piped up, sitting in her designated spot next to her brother.

"Max is too young for such affairs," Maryse answered, not unkindly. "He'll be working on a Grey Book project while we're here. He shouldn't be bored." Izzy nodded once. She wanted him here, but if she knew anything about Freeworld, it was that mixing him with Downworlders in an act of surprise was a guaranteed night of drama. Perhaps it was better that he miss this one. Jace took his seat next to the head of the table, then moved over one. The head of the table was for the Head of the Institute, and for non-business dinners, the seats next to that were for the Head's two most important people. Izzy obviously sat on the other side, so Jace would let Magnus take this one. After all, it was easy for anyone to see that Malec came as one.

"What's with all of the extra chairs?" Robert mumbled as he sat and waited for his guest. Alec paled. He didn't know?

"Dad…" he began. Izzy kicked him under the table. He shut up.

"We have some other guests coming too, Dad. The Consul needs to meet more people than just us." Izzy smiled. Robert was either really stupid, or just very submissive.

"Too true. I suppose there are more than just us in the Institute." A knock on the door. "That's him!" Robert shot back from his chair, as if to greet him, then remembered something. He wasn't the Head of the Institute anymore. "Um…Alec. Go and greet our guest." Alec nodded in curt response. Izzy saw a glimmer of a smile in his face.

"That's _exactly_ what I'm going to do." Robert took his seat, and Izzy locked eyes with Maryse. She was smiling into her wine glass. The opening of a door. The sound of footsteps. The breaking off of a kiss?

"Magnus!" Izzy smiled, as the warlock strode in. Well that explained the kiss, then. The warlock was dressed as glamorously as one could get. Actually, let's just take a moment to appreciate this: The man wore a stone coloured shirt, complete with a ruffled cravat and shiny silver buttons. He wore a sweeping knee-length burgundy jacket, and shoes of almost the same shade. Rings adorned most fingers, and his hair was styled with a carefree, yet you-know-this-man-knows-how-to-style-his-hair kind of way. His left ear held its usual silver cuff. This. Man. Knew. Style.

Robert, however, looked like he'd been stabbed. His mouth formed no words. There was a _Downworlder_ …attending a dinner…with a new Consul… That wasn't the worst part for Robert, though. Not only was there Magnus, but another warlock made her presence known right away.

"I hope you don't mind that I've brought a plus-one," Magnus smiled as Alec pulled out a chair for Catarina. The warlock woman wore a black knee-length, fitted dress with sparkling earrings.

"Well, they _better_ not mind, because I'm not leaving," she half-joked as she took her spot next to Maryse. Magnus thought it cruel to place a stranger to the group next to someone so hard to get along with, but then again, she was _Catarina_. She could look out for herself, and she didn't seem put out by Maryse's awkward attempts at small talk. Magnus silently thanked her for that.

"Magnus, your spot's _here_ ," Jace nodded to the seat next to him. To the seat next to _Alec_. With one graceful sweep of his coat, the man sat.

"Alec," Robert attempted a smile, though it looked lob-sided and demented. "May I speak to you for a second?" Another sharp kick from Izzy.

"Sorry, Dad, but I think it's important we tend to our guests." Magnus couldn't hold back his smile, for more than one reason. First and foremost, he was proud of his man. So proud. Secondly, he knew that three other Downworlders were all on their way to disrupt Robert's vision of a perfect night. Another knock. Go team.

 _Half an hour later..._

"I wasn't aware that this dinner was such a public affair," Robert hissed as he paced around the dinner hall. The Consul was late. Over half an hour late. On top of that, he knew that the Consul would feel highly disrespected to be seated next to a table full of Downworlders, one of which took one of the most important places at the table, next to the Head. The vein in Robert's forehead throbbed. He needed this dinner to be _perfect_ , and Izzy and Alec were making a mockery of it. Clary had since joined the table, next to Jace, in a simple green dress with her hair tossed in ringlets around her shoulders. Next to her, sat the Daylighter, Simon Lewis. Black dinner jacket and jeans were his attire. It wasn't enough to have _two_ _warlocks_ at the table. No, let's add _two vampires_ to the mix. Raphael Santiago stood in a deep, red suit jacket, though he still seemed to blend into the shadows, as every other garment he wore was jet black. His seat was allocated next to Izzy and Catarina, though he stood behind Magnus right now, speaking in hushed tones with the warlock. It unsettled Simon, having someone who could save you one minute and kill you the next standing so close. Next to Maryse, and to the absolute horror of Robert, sat Lucian Greymark. It would have been too obvious and rude to have asked him to move. All they were missing was a faerie, and Robert thanked the Angel for that small miracle.

All of a sudden, Raphael rushed to his seat. Alec took this a warning that the Consul was on his way. With everyone bar Alec and Robert seated, the doors burst opened, and a white haired old guy with a shiny cane and cold eyes flooded in. He wore grey, and Izzy remembered the poem from her childhood. ' _Grey for knowledge best untold_.' Izzy shuddered and tried her best to look calm and collected as she tried to decipher Freeworld's reaction. He did not look very surprised, though there was a jump in his jaw that showed he was unhappy. Perhaps he knew he would be stuck sitting next to Robert Lightwood on one side, and a werewolf on the other. Alec put on his game face.

"Welcome, Consul Freeworld," he offered his hand to shake, but Freeworld pretended not to notice. Magnus could practically feel the embarrassment radiating from his boyfriend as he reclaimed his hand. He gave a sympathetic smile as he caught Alec's eye.

"Aaron Lightwood. I've heard a lot about you."

"It's…Alec…" he nodded, though he didn't offer any more kindness to the man. Mitchell scrubbed at his face with his hand and turned back to Alec.

"I assume the... _Downworlder_ there is the boyfriend I hear so many strange rumors about." Alec's face burned a brighter red. Not with embarrassment, but with rage. Izzy glared. They needed him to keep calm. This was a mission. Let it go.

"I can already tell tonight will be entertaining," Raphael purred into Izzy's ear. He caught Magnus' eye. He could tell the warlock was slightly hurt by the comment, but Magnus was an icon.

"I thought I made a very _tame_ effort with the glitter tonight," he shrugged elegantly as he sipped his wine. "All Catarina's idea, actually. Didn't want you to feel too _dazzled_ in my company." Catarina gave him a smile of triumph. Tonight would be a nightmare, but it would be a cold day in hell before her best friend would let it get the best of him.

"Please," Freeworld offered Alec a smile. "I was just easing tensions with a joke…"

"He's _hilarious_ ," Raphael commented, a little louder and braver than the last time. Izzy bit back a smile, and Clary, across the table, took a sip of her bitter tasting wine to hide her red cheeks. Tonight would be hell.

"Please, Mr… _warlock_. Don't take offence." Alec's fist were in at his sides and his mouth was a hard line, but he glanced back at Magnus. He thought he saw his glamour slip for a moment, the slightest of moments, but he may have imagined it. Magnus shot the Consul a cheeky smile, with human eyes.

"No offence taken, Mr… _Shadowhunter_. I'm an icon." Catarina could have Z-snapped right there, but she stopped herself. Robert decided now was time to take over.

"Please let me take you to your seat, Consul," he offered a tense smile, as if his mouth was being pulled up by strings. Alec took his seat, and under the table, reached for Magnus' hand. Magnus got the message. ' _I'm so sorry_.' He offered a smile and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

After dinner was brought out to the guests, the tension seemed to drift. It no longer focused on Downworld affairs, but instead, Robert managed to guide the topic towards Idris. That was short lived. Magnus watched as Freeworld broke eye contact with Robert, and his cold eyes slithered towards Raphael. He thought he saw a disgusted look cross his face. As Raphael could not eat food like the rest of them, both he and Simon were drinking out of tall, dark wine flukes, a mixture of caffeine and blood inside. Magnus tried to find the problem. There was no foul smell, you couldn't see the contents, and neither of the vampires had their fangs out or fed viciously. It was like watching a normal man drink a glass of wine. Raphael, who looked a mixture of bored and relaxed, sat gracefully in his place. Simon jittered and moved his hands animatedly as he spoke to Clary and a very bored looking Jace, but Raphael sat still and collected. He was not awkward; he just observed. He spoke to Izzy mostly, and Magnus, and occasionally Catarina, (though Magnus expected that was because he felt sorry for the awkward choppy conversation Maryse was offering her) but there seemed to be no one else at the table he seemed interested in. He sat across from Simon, and both the vampires ignored each other with gusto. Magnus saw Raphael's eyes flicker quickly to Freeworld, then met Magnus'. He knew full well Mitchell was watching him. The warlock sat and watched as Freeworld hardened his gaze on Raphael. It was as if he wanted the whole table to notice. It seemed as if the whole Institute was muted now, as conversation stopped. The guests, Robert included, looked at Mitchell with bewilderment. Robert even cleared his throat, but that had no effect. Eventually, Raphael snapped around. He had in place a smile, though it was of the icy 'excuse-you' kind that Raphael seemed to specialize in. Alec braced himself for a sarcastic explosion.

"Excuse you," Raphael purred, tilting his head. "But if you've zoned out, I would prefer if you did it facing another direction. Anyone would think you were _staring_ at me."

" _Vampire_ …" Robert warned, his eyes narrowing. Raphael's smile deepened, playing the innocent card. He interlaced his fingers and placed them on the table. Simon stiffened. This was the Raphael he feared. Sure, vicious Raphael could rip you to shreds, but at least with him you'd have warning. This version of the vampire was unpredictable, to Simon anyway. The Consul played that card too.

"Oh, my apologies. I was just looking at your neck." A chill went up Raphael's spine, and his carefree attitude dropped for a split second. His hand reached for his neck, to the sixty year old faded bite marks that he didn't think seemed all that visible anymore.

"That's a strange thing for a sixty year old man to say," Izzy shot back. The Consul gave a short laugh.

"Oh, please, child. Raphael is even _older_ than _me_. No, no, I was not looking at your bite marks, vampire. I was looking at your necklace." Raphael absentmindedly reached for the crucifix around his neck. That spot on his lower chest was visible through his two undone top buttons. The skin around and underneath the cross had always been kissed by the scar the religious relic left. He had it on for so long, he didn't seem to notice anymore. "I'm just wondering, how a _vampire_ can wear that…without…"

"Dying?" Simon offered. Clary elbowed him. Raphael shot him daggers.

"Well, I technically already _am_ , if that answers your question."

"But it doesn't, though. I'm sorry, but I am a man that needs to know these things. I need knowledge." _Grey for knowledge best untold_.

"This steak is excellent," Catarina offered to ease the conversation away from crucifixes and vampires. Raphael glanced at Magnus. The warlock shook his head. ' _Don't tell him your life story_. _The_ _less he knows about us, the better_ '.

"I cannot offer answers that I do not understand myself," Raphael lied. Freeworld narrowed his eyes, and Raphael cracked a smile. The smile was faltering and nervous, but it still sent shivers up Simon's spine.

"Well, I suppose that's…"

The doors burst open.

Shadowhunters clad in their signature black flooded in.

"Nobody leaves!" one woman shouted, a seraph blade shining in her hand. "All Downworlders, stand up and keep your hands where I can see them!" Alec's chair flung back.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he yelled. The table was surrounded, at least three Shadowhunters to every Downworlder. The woman barked more orders.

"All Downworlders, I _command_ you to stand up and place your hands where I can see them!" Izzy felt herself being pulled back by Nephilim arms as Raphael and Catarina were surrounded. Raphael made no comment as he stood, and placed his hands out in surrender. Catarina did the same, but was not quiet about it. Both were dragged roughly away, two capturing the vampire, and four restraining the warlock. Her hands were clasped shut by two of the Shadowhunters. Izzy could hear the angry protests of Clary across the table as Simon and Luke were given the same treatment as Raphael. Simon had a similar reaction to Catarina, but Luke only grumbled his annoyance. He knew it complaining wouldn't stop the Nephilim. Isabelle wriggled free of the hands that held her (which turned out to be Raj, to her distaste) and stepped back to watch the chaos. Jace and Alec were standing next to each other, Alec blocking Magnus from the other Nephilim with a look of such ferocity that the Shadowhunters backed off. They didn't want to tick off their boss, after all. Maryse and Robert stood behind the Consul, who seemed the least bit surprised. He was still seated. He took a sip of his wine. The lead Shadowhunter turned to Alec. She was speaking to him, but barked her speech for all to hear.

"Demonic murders have taken place here tonight!" she shouted. Maryse paled and clapped her hand over her mouth, and Izzy gasped. Robert looked as stunned as Alec. "Three Shadowhunters have been killed and nine injured by a demon blooded assassin. Brother Enoch has been summoned and will arrive shortly, but we will not take chances. The attack took place in the Institute's basement, and the wards of the Institute have been checked. No demon has entered, there was no forced entry. The attacker must have been _invited_ into the Institute. That means you five Downworlders must be taken to the vault for imprisonment until further notice!" Alec's blood ran through his veins ice cold. He tried to form words in his mouth, but somehow they wouldn't come out. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lightwood, but the warlock _must_ come with us. The Clave won't allow it any other way."

"No…I won't allow…they didn't… _he_ didn't…" was all he managed to say.

"With all due respect, and I'm not trying to tell you how to run your Institute, Alan, but she's right. It's in the interest of our _safety_. He _must_ be taken away." Freeworld looked at Magnus with distaste, then motioned for the Shadowhunters to approach the warlock. Anger swept over Alec like a wash of hot water. An arm reached for his, and he went to shake Jace away, only to discover that it was in fact Magnus'.

"Alexander," he tried to smile, but his glamour had slipped. His amber cat-eyes glinted with fear. "It's OK. _I'll_ be OK." Magnus squeezed his arm before stepping forward, and it took Jace's quick reflexes to stop Alec from sprinting forward. The warlock held up his hands in defeat, and both were grabbed and closed roughly by the Shadowhunters, Raj included.

"Consul, in the interest of your safety, we must ask you to go with them." The woman pointed to two guards by the door. Freeworld stood up, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and strode over.

"Careful," he called as he left. "That's a High Warlock. Put him in an isolated cell. It's safer that way." Jace's hands dug into Alec's arms in order to restrain him. Izzy did the same for Clary, though the red head shouted in protest.

Alec didn't know what was worse; watching Magnus and the others be taken away, or the fact that he couldn't do anything to stop it.


	5. Chapter 5 - Cast out the Light

**Chapter 5**

 **There's a Day when all Hearts will be Broken, When a Shadow will Cast Out the Light, Our Eyes Cry a Million Tears, Help Won't Arrive**

Three Shadowhunters dead. Nine injured. A whole Institute fallen to shambles.

Alec stood next to Izzy as Maryse and Robert spoke to Brother Enoch. They stood in the infirmary, with bandaged and unconscious Shadowhunters all around. The attacker was definitely demonic, as the runes the Brothers were trying to administer were not working. Enoch's eerie voice invaded their thoughts as he tried his best to answer their questions.

" _It is too early to tell what type of demonic power was used. I have sent blood from all twelve of the victims, including the three deceased, to the City of Bones. We should know tomorrow at the latest. Until they awaken, we cannot host an interrogation._ "

"Brother Enoch, you must have some indication!" Maryse exploded. Robert reached for her arm, but stopped himself just in time. Tears began to well in her eyes. "What if Max was down here? He survived Sebastian, but this…this _thing_ attacked twelve Shadowhunter, killing three of them. How could we not have known? How could nobody have known…" she broke away, clearly ashamed of her tears. Robert made his way after her, whether that was a good idea or not. Alec took this as his chance to interrogate Brother Enoch.

"Can you at least see what type of weapon was used? If it was a seraph blade, then it couldn't have been a Downworlder. Fang marks? Claw marks?"

" _It seems you chose to overlook many things in order to protect your lover_ ," Enoch remarked. Alec never wanted to punch a Silent Brother so hard in his entire life. " _To answer your questions, the weapons used were your own. The weapons storage room in the basement was raided prior to the attack. Of course, all security in the area was eliminated, which is why Shadowhunters were dispatched down there in the first place. No fang marks. No claw marks. This was orchestrated. However, even though security was compromised, the demon protection was not. I refuse to point fingers at Ms. Loss, Mr. Bane, Mr. Greymark, Mr. Lewis or Mr. Santiago, but the attacker was_ invited _into the Institute. I fear you might have a lengthy battle on your hands, Alexander Lightwood."_ Alec tensed at his name. No one called him Alexander other than…No, he wouldn't think about it. He needed to help him, not sit here sulking. The doors burst open and Clary exploded in, hands covering her eyes as if to hide her tears. Jace followed her. They both stood in their dinner outfits, though Clary's hair and make-up were destroyed. Izzy caught hold of her, pulling her into a hug. Alec b-lined for Jace, and his Parabatai looked sheepish.

"What happened?" Alec demanded.

"Alec, I need you to listen to me. No rash decisions. This is serious. You need to co-operate with the Clave, or…"

" _Jace_!" Alec shocked himself with the severity of his voice. Jace knew how stressed Alec was. He took no notice.

"Clary and I…we went to the dungeon. We were stopped by the guards. The cells are guarded to the maximum. We tried, Alec, but they will not let us in. They say we are all too closely tied to them. No Lightwood, Herondale or Fairchild are allowed to enter."

"I'm the _Head_ ," Alec barked. He knew it wasn't Jace's fault. He could see Clary was devastated. She had two of her loved ones involved. Jace looked heartbroken on Alec's behalf.

"Alec…there are strict orders…not to let you…"

"Not to let me enter the vault." His voice began to shake as he imagined Magnus, alone in a cell. He should never have invited Magnus to this dinner. This dinner should never have happened. "Why?" He knew why, but he needed to hear it. He needed to know what the Clave, or even worse, Freeworld, had to say.

"Alec, it's hard to explain…"

"Jace don't lie to me. Please. Please tell me." The pleading in Alec's voice dragged the truth from Jace. The Herondale gulped.

"They…they don't want anyone speaking with the warlocks. Like, at all. Even Catarina is off limits. The vamps and Luke…with some more persuasion, we may be able to talk to them sooner, rather than later. But…since Magnus is the _High_ Warlock…Alec, I think…I think they are most suspicious of him." Alec gasped. It was as if someone had punched him straight in the heart.

" _What_?! They think _he_ did this?!" he roared. No. Never. Not in a million years would his warlock ever do something like this. This was the same Magnus who helped the Nephilim in basically everything they did, who put his life on the line more than once for them. The same Magnus who loved Madzie like a daughter, who had a soft spot for cats, who felt insecure about his warlock mark. The same Magnus who healed Luke, Raphael and helped Max as best he could. Heck, this guy threw a party for prejudiced Shadowhunters so that they could celebrate Max's Rune ceremony.

The same Magnus who _loved_ _him_!

Izzy, who was cradling a now more collected Clary in her arms, shot Jace a look. ' _Calm him down, Jace_ ' it seemed to say.

"Alec, keep it together. You can't lose control now. You've got to keep it together, for Magnus, and for the others."

"Jace, how in the name of the Angel am I supposed to calm down?! He's _innocent_! They are _all_ innocent!"

"Listen, Alec, I understand. Really, I do. If it was Clary in Magnus' position, I would feel the _exact_ _same_. But if you cause trouble, Alec, they will move him. He, along with the others, will be moved to Idris. How will you be able to protect him there? I'm going to say the same to you as I did to Clary. Wait until tomorrow. When the verdict comes back from the City of Bones, then the whole Institute will know they are innocent. They'll be set free and we can focus on catching the actual murderer. My grandmother will be summoned should they be called to court, but until tomorrow, nobody can do anything." Jace placed both his hands on Alec's shoulders, as if to steady his brother.

"What am I supposed to _do,_ Jace?" It was as if Alec whispered the sentence. If Jace's heart wasn't broken before, it was completely shattered now. All Jace could do was offer a hug.

"Go home, Alec. We'll sort all this mess out tomorrow. Go home, and be careful."

 _Meanwhile..._

"Well, this is awkward." Simon Lewis sat on the ground of his cell, playing with the iron shackle around his left ankle. It was a long, so technically he could walk around his cell without much restraint. It had a rune Simon didn't recognize along the strip of metal. It was probably something to do with strength. Vampires could break through iron if they really tried. Well, at least it wasn't blessed metal. The chain wouldn't allow Simon to reach the door of the cell, though he could walk around the cells perimeter if he wanted to. He _didn't_ want to. Like a cat around a chained dog, he stayed in his corner. His cell mate had given up on trying to remove his shackle. He had claimed the only bed, though Simon had presumed it was to tick the Daylighter off more than anything else. He lay with his hands under his head, staring up at the ceiling. He turned to face Simon when he spoke.

"Yes." Raphael was not in a talkative mood.

"Still, could be worse, right? Could be blessed metal, or the sprinklers could set off and holy water could pour down, or…"

"And you're _still_ talking," Raphael mumbled. "Just my luck. I could have been put with anyone else, but I get stuck with you."

"Rude," Simon hissed. He jiggled the chain again. The constant sound was driving Raphael crazy.

"You're lucky that I pulled the short straw and ended up with the short chain," he hissed. He was right. Raphael's chain was easily half the size of Simon's, possibly even shorter. It was only fair he had the bed, Simon supposed.

"Seriously though. What's the deal with the attack? Why were we arrested?" Raphael gave a short laugh.

"Because, Daylighter, we are _Downworlders_. Plain and simple. The attack may have been demonic, but I can swear to God that I had nothing to do with it. Perhaps I am the least trusted, but if I did not kill you within the first week of you becoming a vampire, I will murder no one." That sent a prickle of anger over Simon.

"What about Clary? You were willing to kill her." Raphael said nothing for a little bit. Simon could hear him gulp.

"That was not my finest moment, I will admit."

"Which leads me to have some trust issues with you, Raph."

" _Don't_ call me that," he hissed. He sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side in one graceful movement. Simon, startled, rushed to his feet.

"I'm just saying, if the Institute were to point fingers, I'd be worried if I were you."

"You are suggesting that I _single_ - _handedly_ attacked twelve Shadowhunters, killed three and arrived just in time for dinner?" When he put it like that, it did seem stupid.

"No…I…" Simon began. He fell back into the corner as Raphael rose from the bed. He shrugged off his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. What was once perfectly sculpted black hair was now disheveled. It didn't look bad. Simon supposed being a vampire came with only one quirk – good looks no matter what.

"I will say this once, so listen, you miscreant. I. Killed. No. One." He attempted to walk towards Simon, an effort to scare him, though his chain stopped him just a little less than halfway across the room. His chain seized, and a dart of pain etched across Raphael's face. He covered it up, though Simon saw it.

"What's the matter…Oh, jeez, Raphael! Your foot!" The metal was the same as Simon's, though for some reason, Raphael's was considerably shorter and tighter. The runes on the metal seemed to burn into the vampire's skin, forcing him to step back. Though it would heal soon enough, blood was spilling around his ankle, hitting the floor in scarlet drops. He made his way back to the bed, and lay down again without another word. The floor was cold and hard. Simon was desperate.

"Think maybe there's room for the both of us?"

"Come near my bed, Lewis, and I _will_ be up for murder."

The cells were underneath the Institute, with three stone walls and one made of runed glass. If Simon had tried, he would have caught a glimpse of Luke and Catarina's cell. Luke was given the same treatment as the vampires. He lay on the floor with his jacket being the only thing separating him from the cold. His left foot was shackled. At least his chain was loose and long. Catarina had a different means of restraint. Luke had given the warlock woman the bed, and she lay facing the wall, covered in a thin, scratchy, damp smelling blanket. Her legs were free. Her hands were not. Runed metal shackles covered her from finger to wrist, which were balled into fists in order to fit. One was chained to the wall, though the other was free, but covered in the metal. It was heavy and uncomfortable, and the only thing she could think of was Madzie. Her warlock friend Harper Tide was perfectly capable of looking after the child, but she still worried about her. She faced the wall, because with her tears so close to falling, she could not face Luke.

"If you're worried about Magnus, I wouldn't be," Luke offered. He didn't know his cell mate very well to start with, but the constant silence was driving him crazy. He presumed the warlock was worried about her friend, and now that she was reminded of him, he was all she could think of. "The man's virtually invincible..."

"No one's invincible," the warlock muttered, just loud enough for Luke to hear her. She had once thought Ragnor was invincible. Look how wrong she turned out to be.

Magnus Bane was a man who liked to live in style. This cell was _not_ style. It smelled of damp, if that was anything to go by, and painted a complete cliché colour for a cell. Too white. It was rather blinding, but perhaps that was the idea. He remembered these cells. He was in them before. He had never been to the City of Bones' prison accommodation, but he presumed it was even worse than this place. Still, the memories of being trapped inside Valentine's body and tortured was enough to make him sick. Both of his feet were shackled to the floor, another cliché for a prison scene. All that was missing was the metal ball attached to the end of it. His chains were not remarkably short, but that was not what bothered him. His hands were stuffed into runed metal seals. It was heavy and cold to the touch, but his hands had so little room, he felt sure they would fall off. He scanned the room with his cat eyes. He feared for Catarina and the others, but only once face swam in front of him. Alec. His Alec. He would come.

He wouldn't leave him here.

 _"Go home, Alec."_

That's what Jace told him to do, and here he was. The loft was home now.

He stood in the hallway. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. There was just so much of Magnus in here. Heck, it even _smelled_ like Magnus. The Sandalwood reached his nostrils, and Alec inhaled deeply. He knew he was being stupid. Once the survivors woke up, they'd be able to tell the Clave everything. If the worst came to the worst, there was always the Soul Sword. His innocence would be declared. He could come home.

Then why did Alec still have that sick feeling in his stomach?

He wondered through the loft, every footstep pushing him forward. He ended up in their room. He registered the canary yellow sheets, and that was it for Alec. The Shadowhunter just about collapsed into the bed, which was soft as always. It never seemed this _empty_ though. Sandalwood. More sandalwood. God, he must have bathed everything he had in the stuff. Alec, for the first time since he was Max's age, curled up. He hugged his knees as he lay there. What would they all think, everyone at the Institute, if they could see him now? Their Head, their leader, curled up like a child. How pathetic he must have looked.

Alec closed his eyes, the dawn only just seeping through the window, and went to sleep.

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 _I'm so sorry for the problems with this chapter when I uploaded it first. I don't know what went wrong with it, but hopefully this won't turn out like the first time I posted it. Again, thanks so much for the kind reviews and support! - S._


	6. Chapter 6 - Who the World Told You to Be

**Chapter 6**

 **Can You Remember Who You Were, Before the World Told You Who to be?**

Sunlight poured through the window panes when Alec opened his eyes. He jolted upright. He checked his watch. It read quarter to two in the afternoon. Alec cursed himself as he burst out of the room. He had only meant to stay in the loft for an hour or so, but he managed to sleep through the entire morning.

' _Why didn't someone ring me?!_ ' Alec huffed to himself as he locked the door and made his way out of the building. Was that a good sign? Or a bad one? Was there no news of Magnus' freedom? Or any of the others? He jogged through the blocks as he made his way to the Institute. He rang Jace, and the Herondale wasted no time in answering.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes, Jace. But why didn't you wake me?"

"I didn't know you were asleep," his Parabatai laughed.

"I'm serious, Jace," Alec huffed as he avoided a particularly irritating mundane woman walking her dog. "Have any of the survivors woken up? What's the news?"

"Two of them woke up. Seraphina Darkbloom and Hans Kentwright. The others are stable…"

"Well, what did they say?" Alec practically choked. They could set Magnus free! Once they got the accounts of the survivors, they could let his man and the others go, and focus on catching the murderer. Alec had his eye particularly on Freeworld, though how could such an old man attack twelve Shadowhunters, kill three and then come to dinner? And with demonic force? Well, the man was notably late…perhaps that could help Alec's case…

"Alec, the two have only just woke up within the past hour. It's still fuzzy, but the thing is…"

"They don't remember, do they?" Alec stopped walking, shoulders slumping. He wasn't hidden behind a glamour, and he could see three mundane young women gawking at him. He forced himself to take his steps.

"It's not that they don't remember, more like they didn't see anything to begin with."

"How the _hell_ does that work?"

"They say it was a blur, but they remember being thrown across the room…Seraphina remembers seeing Donny Hartguard being thrown against the wall. He died on impact. As did the other two. It was weapons that injured the survivors, but it was sheer force that killed the victims."

"What does that mean for us?"

"Nothing yet. All we know is that it was not the work of a Shadowhunter. Or a faerie. The weapons stolen were all iron. They couldn't have touched them." Jace's footsteps were audible as he clattered down the stone stairs leading to outside the Institute. Alec hung up when he saw him, and ran over to greet his Parabatai. Jace picked up where they left off. "So, it's too early to clarify, but no Shadowhunter, no faerie and probably no werewolf were involved."

"No werewolf?"

"The wolves are fast, but twelve Shadowhunters would have seen them. Plus, no claw or bite marks." Alec let out a breath, but at least Luke was in the clear.

"So they still suspect the vamps and the warlocks?" The pain in Alec's voice sent a jab into Jace's heart. He had a short lived victory when he was able to tell Clary her sort-of father was cleared. Seeing Alec look so miserable shocked him back to his senses.

"They worry the warlocks may have used a cloaking spell, though neither of the survivors remember seeing flashes of magic, or sparks. There is also the notion that the vampires could have been too fast to see, and could have been too strong to stop in time." Jace finished Alec's catch up and searched his brother's face. Alec flew past him into the Institute. "Wait up! What are you doing?"

"You said Luke was free?"

"He's in the process. Why?"

"I need to talk to someone, and if I can't get to him, I've got to get the next best thing."

Clary clung to Luke as if he was her lifeline. Finally! He was free!

"Easy, Clary," he laughed. After a swift apology from Robert and a watery one from Maryse, he was making his way out of this blasted Institute. Perhaps from the outside he could at least help with the murders. As far as he was concerned, the attacker was still out there.

"Luke," Alec called as he burst into the room, Jace hot at his heels.

"Wow, you look rough as hell," Luke muttered. "And I thought _I_ was the one who spent the night in a cell."

"Thank you so much, now can we talk?" Luke nodded and walked towards him. Alec lowered his voice, waiting for Jace to leave him alone with Luke and talk with Clary.

"This about Magnus?" Luke knew the look in Alec's face before Alec even opened his mouth. He didn't bother denying it.

"How is he?" Luke scratched his stubble and allowed his eyes to wander away from Alec's.

"I wish I could tell you, but I really don't know. I shared a cell with Catarina, and Raphael and Simon were in a cell right across from us, but I never saw Magnus. He's on his own." The words screamed inside of Alec. Like claws scratching at his heart and soul. _He's on his own_. How could Alec let this happen? "Kid, stop right there. I know what you're thinking. You cause a scene, or stir up any kind of trouble regarding Magnus, and they will move him. He'll have no protection in Idris." Alec gulped, then gave a nod. He was burning. He was _seething_. He had to get Magnus out of there. There had to be a way. Maybe he could talk to another warlock? Or get Jace to talk to Imogen? She was both his grandmother and the Inquisitor. She had to be able to help. But wasn't that biased? Wouldn't she lose her job? Besides she was hard as nails. She would hardly help the Downworlders.

"Are you OK?" Simon paced around his cell, one leg feeling heavy, dragging with the weight of the chain. He was starving. The Nephilim wouldn't let their Downworld prisoners starve, would they? He wished he had drank more at the dinner, instead of only taking the occasional sip, but he couldn't have known what would happen. He felt the pull of sleep, therefore it must have been day. Raphael lay on the bed, flat on his back. His arms were folded over his stomach. His tight shackle had seared bright orange twice more around his ankle, even when Raphael moved it too quickly. It was obviously broken, if a runed shackle could be broken. He was asleep, or else he looked it, and Simon regretted speaking. He just couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Why must you talk all the time?" Raphael huffed. His eyelids fluttered open, though he still did not move.

"Thought you needed the company." The older vampire scoffed but made no remark. "Are you not starving?"

"Mmm."

"What are you thinking?" Simon sat on the floor again. He could pull and tug at his chain however many times he liked, but not once did it burn.

"I'm thinking that talking to you is encouragement that you do not need."

"Seriously." Raphael mumbled something about Simon being annoying before answering.

"I'm thinking they're narrowing us down. The werewolf got out. I would assume you're next."

"If we're not released, can't they use the soul sword?" Simon was trying to remain positive.

"Hmm. They could. Fairly painful on Downworlders, and the interrogations are twice as long. It would work, for you and me at least."

"And the warlocks?"

"It would work on them, too. Procedure is different for them, though. They have to be monitored by Silent Brothers, have to make sure they can't use their magic. Only the strongest of high warlocks can cast spells to evade the sword. Silent Brothers can sniff all that out, but they can't let them go lightly."

"This is all very ridiculous."

"You're telling me." Another sharp hiss and the sizzling began again. Another round of glowing chains. Another round of burning flesh.

"You didn't even move that time!" Simon gasped as he rushed to the bed.

"Daylighter, stay back," Raphael warned. He sat up slowly, trying, yet failing, to keep his expression neutral. Blood spilled all over the white sheets, soaking into them. Simon's nose pricked as he breathed in the sharp smell. He was so hungry, but this was making him feel nauseous. Simon heeded his warning, though. Stepping away, he grimaced as the sizzling stopped, the metal returning back to grey. Raphael's shoulders sagged, yet he remained so tense. His arms shook as he supported himself on them. It was as if he was scared to move.

"What the hell was that?" Simon's voice was barely above a whisper as he sank down the wall, looking anywhere other than the pool of scarlet around the bed and the floor. Simon wasn't expecting an answer, and he didn't get one.

Raphael Santiago, as stoic and as blunt as he was, lay back down again, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.

"At least three more of the survivors have woken up. That's something, I suppose." Izzy sat hunched on her chair. There was no hope left in her voice, as if this good news wasn't very good at all. Jace understood. There was now only two left unconscious, the others now had their wounds taken care of, and had answered questions from Maryse and Brother Enoch like there was no time in the world left to spare. There was no change. No one had recalled anything different. No one saw anything.

Izzy remained out here, because in the next room, she could hear Clary and Alec battle with Robert, and even worse, Mitchell Freeworld. Izzy and Jace were both part of the 'meeting', but Jace had seen the reeling of Izzy. He could see that Alec wasn't going to stop his fight, but Izzy had looked so...overwhelmed. Jace handed her a bottle of water. She drank a short sip.

"He's not going to let up," Izzy looked so dejected, like she was going to get sick at any minute.

"Alec?"

"No, the Consul." She took a shuddering breath. Inside, the Consul sat behind his desk, sitting back in his chair, hands playing with his cane. He didn't care.

"What about the Inquisitor?" Clary had demanded.

"Too closely linked to the Herondale boy," Freeworld had shot back. "I have told you, the Clave are dispatching some Shadowhunters from the Gard in Idris later this week. I know you think all I am doing all of this for some evil, scheming reason, but this is all Clave protocol! 'The Law is the hard, but it is the Law'."

"Don't give me that _crap_!" Izzy had watched as Alec exploded, hammering his fist into the Consul's desk. Freeworld had jolted, but regained his composure.

"Alec!" Robert went three shades of red. He gripped his son's bicep, dragging him away. "I know you're angry, but emotions cloud judgement…"

"Don't say that. Don't you _dare_ say that to me right now, Dad, because I _will_ hit the roof. People only say that when they mess up. What, can you blame all of this on 'emotions' as if it's a real thing?" He broke loose of Robert's grasp and spun back to face the Consul. "Right under our feet, four _innocent_ Downworlders are chained to cell walls. That wouldn't be so bad if I didn't know that Magnus is _alone_ in a cell with absolutely no human contact whatsoever…"

"So this is all about the High Warlock? I thought this was about the murder of three Shadowhunters," Freeworld interjected. If he wasn't covered head to foot in runes, Alec would have been mistaken for a werewolf. The growl he gave certainly sounded like one. That was when Izzy had had enough. She felt herself sway, her stomach flip. She felt as if she would either vomit right there, or else faint. She caught Jace's eye, and watched as he strolled over.

"Let's get some air," was all he said.

Now, as Izzy took another sip of her water, she felt another pang of guilt in her chest.

"I should never have come up with that stupid idea of a Downworld dinner. What was I thinking?"

"You couldn't have known," Jace offered. It didn't help. All Izzy could see were chains. Catarina, Magnus and Simon all in chains. Raphael…

"Can we request the Soul Sword?" Izzy asked.

"Already brought it up with Brother Enoch. They will, but he wants to wait until the last two Shadowhunters wake up." For the first time all night, Izzy felt a spark of hope flicker inside her. "Hold up, though, Izzy. Downworlders take to the Sword…differently. It hurts Shadowhunters, but it can be torture to some Downworlders. Then there's the issue with the protocol surrounding the warlocks, whether or not they cast spells of protection to avoid speaking the truth…"

"The vampires?"

"I worry," was all Jace said. The pain was back in Izzy's chest. Both she and Alec were growing tired of Jace's newfound habit of vague answers.

"Worry about _what_?" Jace grabbed her water bottle and took a sip. Izzy suspected this as a stalling tactic more than anything else.

"With Simon, I don't think we'll have a problem."

"What about Raphael?" He had never wanted to come to the stupid dinner in the first place. Izzy had practically forced him. Now, because of her, he was a prisoner.

"Brother Enoch commented on his…rather good at evasion tactics. I don't know Izzy." Isabelle gestured for more information. "You remember at the dinner when Freeworld was staring at him?" Izzy nodded. "Well, you think there was a particular reason why he focused on the holy relic? I mean, yeah, curiosity, but…"

"Vampires shouldn't be able to wear them," Izzy finished his sentence. He sighed.

"He can wear a crucifix, and say the word 'God', so what? But that leads to the question. What else can Raphael evade?" Jace could see Isabelle wanted to be alone right now. He wondered how his girlfriend and Parabatai were holding up in the meeting that was taking place right next door. He turned the handle. "It'll work out, Izzy," he offered, before walking back to the battle.

She didn't believe him, which was OK, because he didn't believe himself either.

Two Shadowhunter guards, Ginny Soulburn and Louie Bluejay, stode through the prison corridor. It was time to feed the prisoners. In the woman's hand she held two containers, which she didn't know the contents of. ' _Warlock_ ' was scrawled on both. The man held two flasks, each containing a solution of some type of blood. They were obviously for the vampires.

"Daylighter," Raphael mumbled from the bed. Simon snapped awake. The ground was hard beneath him, and though he did not shiver, the concrete was cold to the touch. Raphael was sitting up on the bed. In the past three hours, Raphael's chain had flared up only once. His ankle had completely healed since then, though the amount of blood still soaked into the sheets was disturbing. "You said you were hungry?" A man clad in black gear stood outside the glass, peering in. Simon could see the flasks through the runed glass, and his stomach rumbled. He could also see the expression of the Shadowhunter. It was a look of a mixture of horror and curiosity. He disappeared from view, and the door clicked open.

"Both of you, stay back," The man held out his seraph blade menacingly, though he was so young, it looked a bit pathetic. Simon held up a foot.

"Chained, remember?"

"I've got…food for you," he rolled Simon's flask along the ground, to which Simon grabbed it, and threw off the cap. The smell of blood filled the room to even more of an extent, and through gulps, Simon saw the guard gag. "What happened in here?" He threw Raphael's flask on the bed. Raphael made no effort to collect it.

"That shackle is broken," Simon barked as he wiped his mouth. "I get it's supposed to stop him from walking around and that, but it is way too tight, and it flares up and burns him…"

"It's _supposed_ to do that," the guard insisted. "It's not broken. Besides, his ankle looks alright to me."

"Can you _not see_ the blood?"

" _Daylighter_." Raphael's growl of warning was the first word he uttered since the guard entered. It unsettled the guard, who perhaps thought that Raphael was just mute.

"Drink up," Louie ordered. Raphael looked the guard straight in the eye, but didn't pick up the flask. "Did you hear me? I was ordered to watch you feed, then collect the flasks."

"I heard you," Raphael purred. Simon chucked his empty flask across the floor, landing with a _clunk_ at the Shadowhunter's feet.

"Then hurry up and drink, or I'll be forced to take it back." Simon watched as Raphael carefully, delicately, picked up the flask. He raised his eyes again, and offered a smile. Simon shrank back. That Raphael smile. It was unnerving, to say the least.

The flask seemed to fly across the room in one fluid movement. It landed where Simon's had, the only difference being his was full, and thrown in defiance.

"I don't think I'm all that hungry." The Shadowhunter picked up the second flask, and shrugged.

"Suit yourself, vampire." The door banged shut. Raphael lay down.

Ginny had entered Catarina's cell, and was caught with aggressive silence. She had no clue how she was supposed to feed the warlocks if their hands were permanently retrained. How could they do _anything_ with their hands permanently restrained? Inside the container, a fat, grey straw and a small flask of water resided. Their soup was lumpy, but it was not slop. It was good quality food, though the manner in which they had to eat it was not ideal, to say the least. In the end, she had opted for the dog treatment – keeping the food by their side, with the straw facing them. She left Catarina's cell, though she doubted the woman would eat anything that she gave her. Ginny made her way to the High Warlock's cell. The corridor was long and narrow. It was well lit, at least.

Here she was. An identical cell to the others, though placed so far away. She felt a pin-prick of guilt…no, it wasn't guilt. It was pity.

The warlock sat against the wall, head back, and eyes closed. Both hands in metal clasps. Both legs chained. ' _Why chain_ both _legs?_ ' she thought. ' _Surely one would do?_ ' He must have known she was staring. He turned his head, and opened his eyes. She jumped and swore. Cat eyes. This man had _cat eyes_. She backed away from the window, and marched to the door. Once open, she sidestepped in.

"I've got food," she offered. She tucked her brown hair behind her ear. "It's soup, and water."

"Delightful," was his response. She set the bowl down and placed the straw inside.

"There. Eat it up."

"Don't you mean ' _lap_ it up'?" Ginny thought of Catarina's silence. It was easier than this.

"I'm just here to deliver the food, OK? Whether you want to eat it or not is not my problem." Magnus rolled his eyes. His cat eyes, lined with glittery eye shadow. She knew that when she came back with the night's food, that soup would still be there, as would Catarina's, cold and untouched. She turned to go.

"How's Alexander?" She stopped short. Her boss? How the hell would she know?

"I am unable to comment," she replied.

"Of course, I understand."

"If that is all…"

"Perhaps it is not," he shot back. He raised from the ground in a graceful sweep. He crossed his arms. She could see the clasps enclosing his hands were heavy. She was glad they were there, though. "When you tucked your hair back, I saw black. What was that?" Magnus noticed a shiver climb up her spine, though he didn't know why.

"A rune, probably. Now I must go…"

"I may be demon-blooded, but I am not stupid. I know what a rune looks like."

 _'Why am I still here? Why should I be interrogated like this?'_ she thought to herself. But she felt something tug at her, pleading with her to defend herself, to prove her innocence. She pulled her sleeve up with a scowl, showing her lower arm. There was, in fact, a deflection rune near her wrist, but that wasn't what interested Magnus. There, on her left wrist, where the clan of veins resided, was one, single black vein. It ran a little down into her palm, and flowed up her arm until it disappeared.

"Is _this_ what you are talking about?" she snapped. "This is due to an infection I got as a child, you _demonscum_. How dare you put me on inquest! I should report you to the Consul. What makes you think you've got the right? Well, you don't…" Her rant was cut short as Louie pushed Magnus' door in. She pulled her sleeve down with haste.

"Is everything OK?" he inquired. Magnus lowered his cat eyes to the ground. Ginny scoffed.

"Just making sure the warlock understood something," she hissed. She pushed past Louie, and Magnus' door banged shut. He was alone again. During the guard's rant, he kept a neutral expression. Now that he was alone again, he could think.

' _Demon scum_.' The words echoed at the back of his mind. ' _Demon scum_.' ' _Demon scum_.' ' _Demon scum_.'

 _Author's Note:_

 _I am so sorry! This is the second time that the chapters glitched. I don't know what I did wrong, but I hope this fixed it! Thanks again for all those who are still reading my fanfiction, and I hope you like it! - S_


	7. Chapter 7 - Safest Place Becomes Alone

**Chapter 7**

 **When Disapproval's all you're Shown, The Safest Place becomes Alone.**

" _Are you sure you would like to carry this out, Alexander Lightwood?_ " Brother Enoch's voice boomed through Alec's head, invading his mind. The remaining Nephilim had awoken, but said the same as the others. They saw no one. Identical accounts of what seemed to be a poltergeist, but definitely wasn't. At least he could move on with their plan, though. Brother Enoch could no longer stand in his way.

"Yes."

" _Then so be it. Upon the arrival of the Inquisitor and the Gard, the Soul Sword shall be brought from the City of Bones to this Institute. You have been warned about the consequences, Lightwood. We do not know at one time if the Sword shall harm the Downworlders in question. Some take to it rather badly. The interrogation may be hard to watch, but once it commences and until it concludes, there is nothing you can do to stop it. The warlocks shall be taken to the City of Bones the within the hour to scan of any magic that could affect the Sword's outcome. Young Shadowhunter, I, along with the other Silent Brothers of the City of Bones, shall not be able to change the answer of the Sword, and it is upon the request of the Consul that everything should be public_." The Brother nodded once, his red hood covering his stitched mouth an eyes in a blanket of darkness. " _I shall return to the City of Bones with Catarina Loss and Magnus Bane. Upon the Inquisitor's arrival tomorrow, I shall return with the prisoners and Mortal Instrument._ " Enoch left Alec, tall and eerily silent. Finally, they were getting somewhere. This was absolutely crazy! Under his feet, Magnus was alone in a cell. He needed him. They needed each other. The darkness of the night seeped through the window panes. The sky seemed to be bleached in a blackness, bathed in the yellow stains of the city's lights. 'The warlocks shall be taken to the City of Bones within the hour…' Alec only just registered those words. The City of Bones was an awful place to be held prisoner, Jace had told him all about it. It needed to be done, though. It was the only way to prove Magnus' innocence, as well as Catarina's and Simon's. Alec knew that Raphael did not carry out the attack. However, if there was anyone out of the four that he would suspect, it would have definitely have been him. How could a demonic creature enter the building without setting off the demon protection alarms? How could the only five Downworlders registered in the entire building, who were there because of him and Izzy, be at fault? His head swam. He didn't need this right now.

A clatter sounded across the room. A curse and a mutter of stupidity. Alec swung around. Louie Bluejay and Ginny Soulburn were in the act of picking up containers and flasks up off of the floor. Louie scooped up the flasks and walked on, leaving Ginny, and headed for the…That was it!

"Soulburn!" He hissed. She jumped, abandoned the containers, and hustled over to him.

"Sir?"

"I need you to do something for me."

* * *

Magnus was a light sleeper. He knew exactly when someone was watching him, and he either woke with a jolt, or simply opened his eyes. He snapped awake, suddenly aware of the pain in his fists and the grumble of hunger in his stomach. He was not being starved and the chains were protocol, but by pure defiance he would not eat. Ginny stood outside, peering in. She had a look of scorn on her face, but when she came into the cell, it was wiped of any emotion. She held the containers as usual, placed the food and water by his side and collected the uneaten stew. He made no comment to her as she worked, and she had made no attempt at conversation with him. He waited for her to leave.

A white sheet of paper landed at his feet.

"Read whatever it is, quickly," she barked, looking outside the glass wall to the left and the right. "It can't be here when I leave."

"It would help if you opened it," Magnus mumbled, trying his best to manoeuvre the letter between his feet. He finally got the paper open, and read.

 _Magnus,_

 _I really don't know what to say. I am so sorry for everything that's happened. The Consul and Clave have forbidden me, or any of the others, to come down and see you. There are guards constantly posted outside the prison. I needed to tell you that the Gard and Inquisitor are coming with the Soul Sword tomorrow, and that you and Catarina will be taken to the City of Bones tonight. I'm so sorry, but this is the only way you can be cleared. Luke said you were in an isolated cell. I hate that. I hate that you're alone._

 _I will do anything to get you out Magnus. This is my mess, it's all my fault, and I'm going to get you out. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll get you out._

 _I love you._

 _Alec._

Magnus' stomach clenched. Having been alone, Alec was all he could think about. It was painful, missing someone this much. It was something he could never take his mind off of. Now, he and Catarina were headed to the City of Bones, the creepiest place on earth, to be scanned of magic that neither of the warlocks had cloaked themselves with. Magnus was sure there were truth cloaking spells in the Book of the White, but he had never used them, and Magnus was sure Catarina hadn't either.

"I have to take that back now," Ginny outstretched her hand to pick the paper up. Magnus' eyes slithered to her bulging, black vein. A childhood infection. He looked away. If he had the use of his hands, he would have stroked Alec's signature. Instead, he re-read the words. ' _I love you. Alec._ ' The letter was snatched up with haste. "You're going to be taken to the City of Bones shortly, with the warlock in the other cell. Under no circumstances are you to tell the guards that will be moving you, nor any Silent Brother, that I gave you whatever was written in that message. It will never happen again. Understand?" She swirled to the door before Magnus had a chance to say anything to her, not that he was going to. ' _I love you. Alec_.'

* * *

"Come on, warlock, don't be difficult." Catarina stayed stubborn and silent as the Shadowhunter guards came to take her away. Unlike Magnus, she didn't know where they were taking her.

"I won't go unless I know where you're going to take me." It was the first sentence any of the guards had heard her speak.

"City of Bones, then tomorrow you'll be taken back here and tried with the Soul Sword. We'll see if the truth comes out." The guard who spoke was a tall, ginger man with a wiry beard. The whole thing jiggled as he spoke.

"Easy, Toby," another guard muttered. Toby swung around.

"My cousin is _dead_ because of one of them," he spat. "Now I'm not blaming anyone until I find out who the assassin was, but that right there _could_ be the murderer." He jabbed a finger in Catarina's direction. She didn't bother to defend herself. It wasn't like they were going to listen to her. Toby left the room with the other guard, and the other two, both women this time, escorted her out of her cell. She allowed them to lead her, hoping that at least in the City of Bones there might be a change of clothes, at least. She was still in her black dress, though the Shadowhunters had given her a large woolly jacket when she was first arrested. A pair of pants would have been more practical.

A Silent Brother stood at the end of the corridor, more guards by his side. She passed the vampire's cell. Raphael sat upright on the bed, and she was alarmed to see the amount of blood in the room. Perhaps the vampires had just spilled their meals, but it seemed so much more than that…Simon hopped up from the floor, looking from Raphael to Catarina as she passed. When she reached the Silent Brother, she was told to wait.

"For what?" she snapped, but her answer was given shortly afterwards. The sound of footsteps echoed down the prison, and behind that army of footsteps came the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Magnus Bane. Though right now, he looked more like a servant. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was messy and his face was smudged. He still held his stance though; his grace would never leave him. As he passed the cell of the vampires, he looked in. Simon practically ran to the glass, though he didn't dare to touch it. Raphael sprang up, worry etched into his face like a carving. Magnus caught his eye and offered a smile, though it didn't fool the vampire in the slightest. He noticed the shackle around Raphael's leg begin to glow…but then he had left the window.

"Catarina," Magnus whispered. She gave a sad smile.

"Bane."

* * *

The City of Bones was not a very pleasant place, putting it nicely. As the warlocks exited the portal, they were embraced with inhumane cold, and Magnus found himself missing the little heat that the Institute's prison offered. It was dark, and the cells had actual bars on them. The worst thing of all, though, was the fact that Magnus and Catarina were kept captive in a place where only the greatest of criminals ended up. Circle members were held here, as were other traitors to the Clave. Threats from the Downworld lived out there days here, and Magnus silently thanked the Angel that he didn't end up across from Camille, if she was even here at all. There was one good thing though. Magnus and Catarina were not separated.

"Beginning to wish I didn't come as your plus one," Catarina remarked as she slid down the damp wall next to Magnus. Both knew what the walls were made from, but were feeling too tired to care. She leaned her head on his shoulder and felt him nod. He didn't say anything. Catarina looked up. Outside the cell, stood three Silent Brothers, and one Iron Sister.

"Warlocks," the Iron sister spoke in soft drawls. Magnus would have preferred if she had just hurried up with the dramatics and just got the procedure over with. "For the next few hours, Brother Enoch, Brother Isaiah and Brother Joseph will scan you for dark magic. You understand why we are doing this?" Neither of the warlocks answered her, but the woman in white carried on. "Catarina Loss, you shall be scanned first. Magnus Bane, you shall follow. The procedure is not painful, but we ask for your co-operation, otherwise you shall not be able to handle the Soul Sword. The only thing you could possibly be hiding is an ugly truth." Still no answer, but a quick nod from their heads. This was protocol, Magnus knew it, but that edge of reason didn't stop him from feeling like this. From feeling like a hated criminal. As Catarina was led away, he couldn't help feeling it was true.

* * *

"What happened?" Alec cornered his fellow Shadowhunter, and drilled questions into her as soon as he saw her.

"I gave him the letter, Sir," she whispered, afraid of being heard. "Both warlocks are gone now. To the City of Bones. They are due back tomorrow morning at seven." Alec nodded his head, his heart hammering in his chest.

"How was he?"

"Sir?"

"I asked how he was!" Alec barked. He couldn't take this right now, the dancing around questions. Why couldn't anyone give him a straight answer? More importantly, why couldn't he just go down and see him for himself?

"He's alive, well and breathing, sir," Ginny remarked. "I am unauthorized to tell you anything else." The young Shadowhunter scurried away, leaving Alec staring after her. Why did he have to do this? Why couldn't he just have kept his cool for five minutes? He wasn't helping anyone like this. A red-haired girl appeared at his side.

"Save your breath, Alec. I already asked everyone here. Freeworld has them all sworn to secrecy." Alec didn't look at her, but spoke staring straight ahead.

"Where is he?" he growled. Clary scoffed.

"Missing, as he was the last time I asked. 'Meeting in Idris' or some excuse like that." Alec spun on his heels and stalked away, face like thunder, and an aura as bitter as lime surrounding him.

* * *

Catarina was sleeping by the time Magnus got back. Despite the loudness of the cell doors squeaking open and banging shut, the warlock did not stir. She was drained when the Silent Brothers had brought her back, and now Magnus knew why. He dragged his legs towards his cell, and thankfully the Silent Brothers did not push him. His eyes drooped as he entered his cell, and the call of sleep was too much to ignore. He sank to the ground and closed his eyes. The Iron Sister had not lied. The ritual was not painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. It felt as if all of the magic running through Magnus' body was being dragged to the surface as the brothers waved adamas and runed objects all around him, but wasn't allowed to breach. Goosebumps, cold sweats and pins and needles covered his entire body all at once. His head swam and his vision blackened more than once. He wasn't sure whether he was scanned for an hour or ten minutes, but judging by how long Catarina had been gone for, he presumed it was closer to twenty minutes, though being a High Warlock, it could have been longer. Finally, the Iron Sister, Jasmina, touched some gold stone against Magnus' forehead, and he supposed when he didn't die there and then, he had passed the test. He didn't know what time it was, how long he'd been there, but he counted down the hours to seven o clock. He'd be back at the Institute. He'd be warm.

He'd be with Alec.

 **Author's Note:**

 _I'm so sorry that it took so long to post this chapter. For some reason, every time I tried, it kept showing random computer text instead of the story, it was beyond annoying, but I hope that was the end of it! Again, thanks for reading this story, and I hope you're enjoying it this far! - S._


	8. Chapter 8 - Know my Weakness

**Chapter 8**

 **I know my Weakness, know my Voice, and I'll Believe in Grace and Choice**

The vampire's cell door crept open, only a whisper of a sound, but Simon bolted upright. A Shadowhunter whom Simon had never seen before stood in the doorway, and tossed a bundle onto the floor.

"The Institute has been more than generous to offer you both a change of clothes. Get changed, clean yourselves up, and await your collection. You've got half an hour." The door was pulled shut, and Simon gathered himself. On the floor was two shirts, two trousers and two jackets, both a deep shade of jet. Simon snorted in disbelief. Did they think that he was going strip in a cell with one wall primarily made of glass, along with Raphael? He was about to offer some awful joke when he realized that the Santiago vampire had not stirred. Simon got up off of the floor and stalked over to the bed. Raphael was sleeping, though he did not seem at peace. His brow was slightly furrowed, as if he was in pain. Simon thought of waking him, but thought better of it. The chain had been searing at the vampire all night long, a record of five times within two hours. While it was not burning, Simon would leave him sleep.

"Guess I've got to change, then," he said aloud, and waited for a remark from his cell mate. When none came, he began rooting through the clothes. He picked up a pair of dark trousers, and scoffed. "How am I supposed to put these on over a shackle?" he murmured. He discarded them, opting to remain in his rumpled, two and a half day old jeans. He tried on a black shirt and shrugged on the jacket. Both were miles too big, but he dealt with it.

"Raphael," he called. Nothing. "Raphael, I think they're bringing us somewhere. They gave us clothes." He raised his voice, but the vampire did not stir. Simon began to worry then. He stooped over Raphael, watching for signs of life. Neither he nor Raphael needed to breathe, and Raphael didn't seem to be while he slept. How could you tell if a vampire was dead? Well, more dead then they already were? Didn't they disintegrate? Maybe sometimes, but he remembered on the day of Valentine's massacre, when he first became a Daylighter, that there were dead vampires lying about in the institute. Surely Raphael wasn't…

"Raphael? Oh jeez. Oh no." Should he try to shake him? If he was dead, that wouldn't help. Should he call for help? As if that would be of use either. Simon backed away, his eyes as huge as saucers, and dragged his gaze towards the blood. There was so much of it…if Raphael was human, it would definitely have been a fatal amount...

Simon paled (well, as much as was possible for a vampire). That was it! Raphael was losing blood with every burn, and he wasn't taking any in. No wonder he was so lethargic. He was running on empty. Simon snapped his fingers over Raphael's face. He clapped his hands. He hollered. Nothing. That was when it truly dawned on the Daylighter, like a cold wash of dread.

Raphael Santiago, leader of the New York Vampire Clan, was dead.

* * *

Izzy scurried around her room. It was almost seven, and through the trial was not set at a particular time as of yet, the Inquisitor would be here shortly. This whole day was already turning out disastrous. She woke up with a headache, and no matter how many irazes she drew, it wouldn't subside. Her make-up attempts were lacking, which was aggravating, as she wanted to look some bit decent. And now, to top everything off, she couldn't find her whip.

"You looking for something or do you just run around like a headless chicken every morning?" Izzy jumped as her Herondale brother entered her room. She rubbed her forehead.

"My whip," she snapped. Jace reached over to the bedside table near the door. He grinned.

"Would it by any chance be _this_ whip?" She snatched it off of him, placed it on her wrist and rearranged her dress, black and formal. She looked like a younger Maryse.

"How's Alec?"

"Up and waiting. I don't think he even went to sleep. Clary is in a similar state. At least after today, it'll be all over." Izzy ran her hairbrush through her raven locks once more and faced her brother.

"How do I look?"

"Presentable," Jace shot back. "But beautifully presentable. Don't be nervous, Izzy."

"I'm not nervous," she snapped.

"I can see that."

"Jace! I'm fine, OK? I just have a headache. Come on, we don't want to be late." Both made their way to the main hall, where in a matter of minutes, the first of the Downworlders would be tried.

The nine survivors already took their place up at the very front of the hall, and the Inquisitor's desk was all set up, though she was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't a Silent Brother in sight, though they always arrived on time, never too early and most definitely never too late. Maryse and Max sat at the very back corner, with Max reading a book and Maryse looking with interest at her shoes. Robert sat near the front, as was Alec, though neither of them were there for each other. Alec had to be there, for he was the Head, and Robert still thought he was. Izzy was torn.

"Sit with Alec," Jace muttered. "He's gonna need you more than Max will." Clary sat in the middle, in a random seat, and played with her hair. She wore black jeans and a black jacket. She looked as if she were going to a mundane funeral. Luke was not allowed to enter the Institute, not after the last Downworld fiasco, and without him there, and with Simon being tried, she had no one. Jace made his way over to her.

"How did this happen," she murmured as Jace sat down and placed his arm around her. His grip was off, and awkward, and not at all like Jace, but Clary put it down to nerves.

"I don't know, Clary," he said. "We're just going to have to wait for the verdict."

* * *

Magnus and Catarina were taken straight from the City of Glass to the Institute in a matter of minutes. Two Silent Brothers had traveled with them, along with the Soul Sword, but when Magnus turned around, both were gone, probably upstairs to the Inquisitor. They would never trust a Downworlder with the sword, only to hold when one was questionably guilty. Catarina and Magnus were torn roughly from sleep, and both ached from the previous night's scan.

"You're going to be given new clothes," Louie Bluejay informed them as he and two other Shadowhunters led them back to their cells. "Change and be ready in ten minutes for collection."

"How, pray tell, do you expect us to change clothes when I can't even raise a finger to scratch my head?" Magnus demanded. Bluejay halted and thought.

"Oh, er…right. I'll see to it that you have…I don't know, helpers?" Magnus scoffed.

"I'm not being manhandled into clothes I don't care for."

"I literally just want pants," Catarina barked. "I don't mind the jacket, but I need pants."

"Harper?" Louie called. The only female Shadowhunter answered.

"Yes?"

"See to it that Ms. Loss is able to change into her new garments, and make it snappy. Inquisitor Herondale does not care for late arrivals."

"But what about the seals?" Louie eyed the iron that covered the warlock's hands. He blew out a breath.

"Well, when it comes to holding the Soul Sword, they won't have the seals on anyway. Take them off." Harper looked as if she would faint.

"Take them off? Louie, that's incredibly careless…"

"And this is incredibly cruel," he snapped back. He turned to face Catarina, eyes kind. "All I can offer you is the dignity to dress yourselves without being 'manhandled' by Shadowhunters, as Mr. Bane so bluntly put it. I want to trust you, so I shall allow you time without the restraints. But know this, there is nowhere to run in this Institute. Portals do not work in the cells, your magic is muted to basic uselessness and there is nowhere on this earth that you can hide where Shadowhunters cannot find you. Don't make me live to regret this." With that, the warlocks were separated, with Catarina being placed in her cell, and Magnus down to his. Harper had a scowl placed firmly on her face as she used her stele to mark the seals. A bright line tore down the metal, and it halved. The first thing Catarina noticed was the rush of cold air against her now free hands, and flexed her fingers. Each one ached from being held for so long in the same position, and each gave a sharp crack as she moved them. She noticed involuntary sparks of purple leave her fingertips, though her powers were heavily muted in the cell. Harper eyed her, hand on the hilt of her seraph blade, and ordered her to change.

"I'm staying outside, in case there is any funny business," she warned. "Your clothes are there." A black dress. Another flipping black dress?! Was it so hard to ask for trousers?

She stared at her palms, where little red crescent moons had appeared from where her nails dug in, and stared at the sweat that gathered in the lines of her hands. If she wasn't magically drained, she would have burst the door down and ran for it, but she knew that would never have worked. She would do what she was told for now, and for Magnus, but after this, she would be so done with the Nephilim. Never again would she get involved in their affairs. She had learned her lesson, the hard way.

Magnus' cat eyes glinted the moment his hands were released. They were damp and aching, but they were free. Impulse told him to flex his magic, make sure it was still there, but he held back. Louie pointed to some clothes.

"Not as fancy as you'd like, but at least they're clean." Magnus thanked the Angel that his legs were not shackled again, so he had the freedom to move around his cell. Louie turned to leave.

"Thank you," Magnus whispered. Louie turned to face him, and didn't cower, even with the warlock's hands free. He shrugged it off.

"Don't thank me yet."

* * *

"What do you mean he's dead?" Freeworld stood at the mouth of the vault, staring in at a crouching Simon and a sleeping Raphael.

"I don't know. He hasn't moved, and he's not responding. The other one thinks he's dead too." Toby Cartwright stood next to the Consul, eyeing both of the Night Children.

"Well, of course he's dead, he's a vampire." Freeworld moved closer. "Is…is the Daylighter _crying_?"

"He's upset, I think." Freeworld rolled his eyes, and entered the cell. Simon jumped up. His eyes were dry, but he was clearly troubled.

"What's the problem?" Simon didn't answer, as Toby shook his head. A Downworlder didn't answer the Consul when he was only thinking out loud. He jabbed Raphael, but the vampire's head only lulled to the side. He grabbed him by the shoulders and began to shake him, but to no avail.

"Stop that!" Simon exploded, hands balled into fists. Toby held out his blade, and Simon just avoided impalement. "He died for nothing!"

"He died for nothing anyway, way back in the fifties." The Consul huffed and scratched his head. "Awful amount of blood. Must have been a reckless blood-sucker." Simon seethed. How dare he? How _dare_ he? Not only was it bad enough that Raphael was dead because of him, but now he was mocking him? Right over him?

"This is your fault. He died alone, and that's on you!"

"Well, you were here. He wouldn't have died alone if you'd have bothered staying awake." Another wash of guilt. Now Simon stood speechless, held at knife-point by a Cartwright. The thick necked, ginger man spoke next.

"Consul, forgive me for butting in, but what do we do now? Will the Clave…will they not investigate? I mean, he died in our care..."

"He went on hunger strike, that's hardly _my_ fault, now is it?" Toby went quiet and turned to face Simon again. "Pity that," Freeworld commented. "Now, I wonder…"

"What do you wonder?" Simon spat. Toby gave him a slight jab, as if to say 'shut up', and the blade sliced through his shirt, kissing his chest with a slight cut. Freeworld slapped Raphael's cheek lightly with the back of his hand.

"He's not going to wake up, don't you get that?!" Simon's roar echoed through the cell. Freeworld's face morphed into a slight smile, and reached into his coat. He pulled out a bottle. It was clear plastic, and shaped into a little statue of the Virgin Mary. The blue cap in the shape of a crown was screwed off, and Toby gasped.

"Sir, it's against the accords! You can't torture a vampire when not provoked, dead or not!" Simon's gut flipped.

"Is that…"

"Holy water. It's from Knock, a little Catholic shrine in Ireland. Of course I've diluted it very slightly with tap water. And no, Cartwright, I am not _torturing_ this vampire. In fact, Simon? Is that your name? Hold out your hand." Simon did not obey, and Toby grabbed him. Simon's speed must have been off that day, because he couldn't even begin to register how quickly a tamed Shadowhunter can get a hold of you. He struggled, of course, but the dribble of water from the bottle came too quickly. A slight burn, as if you touched the side of a hot teapot, made its presence across his knuckles. It wasn't nearly as painful as he thought it would be. "There, that wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I'm Jewish," Simon retorted, reclaiming his hand and rubbing the burn. It was fading already. "What do you plan on doing with it? Raphael's Catholic. Catholic water would just burn him."

"One or two drops, Simon. As a send-off, at least."

"No…" Simon started. The bottle was being tilted. Tilting too fast and at too much of an angle. A few drops…this was the whole thing. "No, no, no!" Simon looked away. He felt sick, his whole stomach flipping and clenching. He wanted to puke.

The noise…Simon remembered the sound from his mother cooking dinner, of onions being thrown into a hot, oiled frying pan. This was _so_ wrong. To do that to someone was horrendous, but to do it to someone who…

A yell. A yell of sickening pain, but a yell all the same. Simon turned around.

Blistering skin marked the right side of Raphael's face, and he sat up instantly, fangs snapped out and a sound of demented, savage hissing replaced the yelling. Freeworld darted back, and Toby edged for the door.

Simon didn't know how to feel. There was relief, as his tormentor was still alive, and had not died alone and for nothing as Simon had feared. However, in the state he was in right now, he didn't know whether this was better or worse.

" _What did you do?!_ " Raphael hollered. His voice was etched with pain and anger. His eyes…they were the eyes of a wounded animal.

"I woke you up," Freeman said calmly as he tucked away the now empty bottle. Raphael stood up completely, and wobbled on his legs. He half-toppled over as he tried to regain his balance. Simon was wrong before, guaranteed good looks were not a vampire's only strong point – speedy healing was an even better one. "Blood-loss coma," Freeworld muttered. "I saved your licentious life, there will not be a next time." Raphael's face began to knit itself back together, the boils began to subside, and the redness was beginning to fade. He breathed laboriously, eyes hell-bent on hate, and fangs glinting with predatory yearning. He wanted to kill him.

"You said a few drops!" Simon snapped. "Not the entire bottle! If that was anyone else, he'd be well and truly dead by now!" Simon remembered the sharp burn of the water on his own skin, and that was only a few drops of liquid not even from his own religion – how would Raphael have felt?

"It was _diluted_ , Daylighter," Freeworld muttered as he made his way to the door. Cartwright, take him to the trial. Give this leech a moment to sober up, then come back for him." At knife-point, Toby shackled Simon's arms and legs with long, old-style runed chains, and with his stele, sliced him away from the floor. Ushered out the door, Simon took one last look at Raphael. He stumbled and fell to the bed, sitting with swimming vision, but he never once tore his gaze from Freeworld, who snorted and left after Simon.

"Ten minutes," he called over his shoulder as the door slammed closed. "Or you can get used to that cell."


	9. Chapter 9 - Shadow of a Man

**Chapter 9.**

 **I Had to Lose it all so I Could Understand – I was just a Boy in the Shadow of a Man**

"Imogen!" Maryse hopped from her seat as the Inquisitor walked in, followed by two members of the Gard and two Silent Brothers. Brother Enoch and Brother Joseph walked soundlessly behind the Gard members, their runed and sewn faces hidden from view behind their red hoods. Imogen held onto the Soul Sword, holding it flat in her palms. At least she wasn't wielding it. Imogen ignored Maryse, and the Lightwood woman sat back down gingerly. Max was too engrossed in his book to notice. Jace hopped up to greet his grandmother. He still felt awkward around her. For starters, what should he call her? 'Imogen' was too friendly, 'Grandma' was too weird, and 'Inquisitor' was too formal. He would stick to using pronouns for now.

"Jonathon," Imogen muttered as she faced him. There was an ice to her tone that he couldn't yet decipher. "A fine mess the Institute is in right now, wouldn't you agree?" Jace gulped.

"Yes, I would."

"A Lightwood mess…" Imogen went to move past, but was blocked by Jace.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sure you understand what I'm saying. Herondales are not known for their stupidity." Imogen shrugged him off, but the message was loud and clear. She was bitter over Jace giving Alec his place as the Head of the Institute. As far as she was concerned, a Herondale Institute was lost back to the Lightwoods. She took her place at the top of the hall, climbed the steps and sat down. The Gard members sat at each side, and the Silent Brothers stood at both wings. Alec appeared from the side, and Robert nudged him.

"You're to sit there," he told him, pointing to the slightly smaller chair to the farthest wing that was designated for the Head of the Institute. Alec nodded once, and went to move.

"Aaron, where are you headed?" A cold wash of ice in his bloodstream. He clenched his fists. He wasn't given time to answer. "Inquisitor?"

"Yes, Freeworld?"

"Might I make a suggestion?"

"Don't waste my time, Mitchell," she warned him.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he offered smoothly. "I was just wondering how… _experienced_ Alan Lightwood is with these cases? I was just thinking, and shoot me down if you see fit, that this case is of high importance. No mistake can be made. Perhaps watching an old professional like myself work might add some insight?"

"Imogen!" Maryse called from the back. "You can't take this away from my son!" Maryse knew how much this meant to Alec. To feel as though he could do something, and to be there for Magnus. She didn't want him feeling so useless.

Izzy paled. If only Maryse had stayed quiet, then maybe Alec would have had a chance, but she didn't. She made it worse.

The hall quietened, watching the showdown between Maryse and Imogen. Max looked up from his book finally, and went to grip Maryse's hand. She enveloped it in her palm.

"Maryse Lightwood, if you can't control your temper, I will ask you to leave. As for the Consul's offer…" she locked eyes with Alec; cold, hard eyes that shone with grief and stubbornness, and Alec knew what was coming. He was the boy who stole the Institute from her grandson, from the Herondales, and ran it to the ground. The boy who brought disgrace upon disgrace to the place, between his warlock lover, his newfound love of the Downworld and his incapability to accept that the law was the law, no matter how hard it came across. The boy who didn't deserve to be the Head of any Institute. "…I think it's a marvellous idea. Take your place, Consul."

The crowd watched for Alec's reaction. Would he act like a child and prove their point? Would he sulk? He surprised them, though, for Alec did not throw a tantrum. With all the grace he could muster, he sat down next to Robert, with the common Shadowhunters. He embraced his inner Magnus, bowed his head in a nod and spoke clearly, his voice without a trace of annoyance.

"Fair enough, Madam Inquisitor." Alec was not the one who threw a tantrum, but someone did. At the back of the hall, Maryse tugged at her youngest son's hand, stepped over the people beside her and led him out to the corridor, despite his complaints of wanting to see the Sword in action. She would not be a part of this.

* * *

Simon could hear the Inquisitor speak as he stood outside the door. It was bad enough that he had to do this, but to be made do it in front of everyone was just plain humiliating. He understood why this should be made public, at least from the Clave's point of view, but having Clary and the other watching him squirm and plead his innocence was an added touch of cruelty. As the doors opened, though, however prepared he had forced himself to be, he couldn't move. He didn't want to struggle on stage, he wanted to come across cool and collected – as if he had nothing to hide. But as his eyes connected with the sword that a Silent Brother was holding, and his feet stayed firmly planted to the ground. A sharp push by his guard had him staggering forward, and the first person he saw was Alec, followed by Izzy. Izzy bit her lip, and Alec looked down. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists. They felt guilty.

A flash of red caught his eye next as he was paraded to the stand, and Clary burst into a sob. Jace didn't look at anyone as he rather gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder (which was un-Jace-like indeed). Simon dragged his eyes away, and forced them to look up at the Inquisitor. His hands and legs were still shackled, but his guards left him and stood at the side door again, out of sight, but never out of mind. The Inquisitor eyed him, and sat up straight.

"Turn to the crowd," she ordered. Simon thought that was stupid. Surely you were supposed to face the judge, but then he remembered who he was trying to convince. It wasn't between him and the Inquisitor, but between him and the entire Institute. He obeyed. "Hold out your hands and accept the Sword." Simon did as he was told, though his hands shook. The Silent Brother holding the Sword glided towards him, and Simon shied away. He had heard stories of the Sword's reaction with Downworlders. He knew he wouldn't _explode_ if he touched it, but if he reacted badly with it, he didn't want Clary to see it. He didn't want her to see him cry.

"What's the issue, Lewis? Are you hiding something?" The hairs on Simon's arms stood up as Freeworld spoke, as did Alec's. Izzy placed a hand on her brother's. She knew even the sound of the Consul's breathing agitated Alec. His hate ran deep. Simon remembered, just less than had an hour before, when he had spilled holy water on Raphael's face. How he felt no remorse when Raphael's face burned. When he called him a leech, licentious, and smiled when Raphael's chain flared up. He was a villain, but nobody could see that. Because, like Valentine, he had the right blood. The blood of the Angel. How could demon blood fare up against that? He held out his hands. If he disappeared into thin air for holding the Sword right now, it would have been worth it to wipe the superior look off of the Consul's face.

"Hit me with it," Simon snapped. "I've got nothing to hide." The Silent Brother passed the Soul Sword into Simon's hands, and for a while, he felt nothing. It was heavy, and at first, it was cold to the touch. That lasted about five seconds.

At first it was pins and needles, like a tingling over his skin. Pins gradually turned into hooks, and they pulled mercilessly at his flesh. He knew the Sword had never grown hooks, and had never changed shape, but it felt like it. This was normal for anyone that was forced to hold it, but the heat that spread across Simon's palms was strictly Downworlder. Reflex had him trying to drop it, but his fingers were no longer in his control. He grimaced. In doing so, his fangs snapped out and sliced into his lip. He felt a trickle of blood run down his chin, tried to focus. His ears were screaming.

"Simon Lewis, you stand before the Nephilim to be tried against accusation of attack and murder. How do you plead?" Simon learned early on in this interrogation that staying silent did not work. The Sword simply spoke for you, whether you wanted it to or not.

"Innocent."

With every question, the Sword didn't wait for a moment of thought or a pause. Simon thought it would make more since if they simply asked him straight out whether he did it or not, but no. That would have been too easy for the Shadowhunters. They asked just about everything other than that. They were either looking for loop-holes, or they liked to watch him squirm. More blood drooled down his face as his teeth shredded his lip, and tears welled up in his eyes, though he didn't let them fall. He would rather die than cry in front of the Consul.

The Sword was pulled from his hands without him registering it, and without thinking, he dropped to his knees. He recalled his name being called, by both the Inquisitor and Clary, but he stayed where he was. He felt hands grab him under his arms and pull him to his feet.

"Simon Lewis," Imogen said as she stood up. Simon dragged his teary eyes to look at her. "Upon careful deliberation with the Gard, we have come to the conclusion that you…are in fact innocent." The sounds from the audience was mixed. It seemed some were disappointed with the verdict. "I hereby declare you a free vampire. You may leave the Institute." He barely noticed as his chains were seared through, and for the first time in three days, he was truly free. A fiery red head bombarded herself into his arms, and all but knocked him over with the sheer force of her hug. At that moment, she didn't care if the blood staining his chin smeared all over her hair. She didn't care that the hug she was giving him would crush a mundane Simon's bones. She simply smiled through her tear stained cheeks. Luke was free. Simon was free. It wasn't good enough, but it was a start. He hugged her back.

"Let's get you home," she smiled as she linked his arm. The crowd and jury had taken a break, and the room was alive with the expression of their opinions. "You look like you need to sleep."

"I look like I need to shower, and I smell like it, too," he smiled. His hands still ached, and he was still weak enough on his feet. "I'm sorry about the smell. We got toilet breaks, nothing else." He could have smelled like a public toilet and Clary wouldn't have cared. All that mattered was that he was out of the Clave's order. He was free again. She hugged him again. Izzy arrived at his shoulder, as did Jace. Jace clapped him once on the shoulder, but turned to face Clary as she leaned into him.

"I'm going to take him home," she said. "I know I should be here for the others, but I can't leave him."

"Don't apologise," Izzy offered as she pulled away from her hug with Simon. "Besides, it's Raphael's turn next. I get the feeling that the less people around to see his, the better it will be for him." Simon tensed. He had forgotten all about his fellow vampire. Should he tell them about the torment and torture that he had gone through the past three days? The burning of the shackle, the hunger strike, the blood-loss coma? The holy water? Of course he should, and he would, but right now? Would it only disrupt whatever chance Raphael had with the Soul Sword? He kept silent.

' _After,'_ he decided. _'It won't make a difference if I wait a little longer.'_

"I think I should stay, at least until Raphael is in the clear," Simon said. Izzy shook her head. Shouldn't he though? Didn't he have a link with Raphael? After being locked in a cell for three days non-stop with him? Didn't he at least owe him that?

"He wouldn't want you there," Izzy stated. Simon was not insulted. He knew this, and despite the fact that they had been forced to bond slightly in their cell, they were not best friends. Perhaps they had gained a little more respect for each other, but Simon knew Izzy was right. Simon had been around for Raphael Santiago's moments of weakness in their cell, he knew he would not want him there for the final one. He supposed he owed Raphael his dignity.

"OK," Simon nodded. "But you'll tell us how it goes?"

"Hopefully he'll be able to tell you himself." Izzy offered a smile as she walked back to her seat. She called over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, by the way. The dinner was my idea. This was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Simon called back. "It was the murderer's." Izzy's eyes filled, but no tears dampened her cheeks. She smiled and left for Alec. Jace followed, planting a kiss on Clary's cheek as he passed. Now that she wasn't there, he could sit with his Parabatai.

Alec Lightwood stood by the wall, arms crossed over his chest and staring into nothingness. When his siblings reached him, he did not look up or change his blank expression.

"That was humiliating," he said.

"The Consul had no right to take your place…" Izzy ranted, but Alec cut her off with a swing of his hand.

"I'm not talking about Freeworld," Alec spat his name. "I'm talking about Simon. They grilled him on everything, even stuff that didn't matter, like 'why were you at the Institute?' They _knew_ why, they just…they didn't care. They watched him squirm and they _didn't care_."

"Alec, it all worked out. Simon's free now. After today, we can finally get the Clave to focus on finding the attacker. They don't like being made a fool of, Alec, and they'll go after him, her or it all guns blazing." Jace tried to reason with Alec, but it was as if he didn't speak at all. Alec lowered his eyes again and shook his head.

"I can't go through that with Magnus," was all he said as he walked away.

* * *

Raphael limped onstage. His injury was obvious, though no one mentioned it. He did not fight as he was led in, but he knew the Sword would hurt him. His attitude was a 'let's get this over with' one, and as he glanced through the crowd, he was happy to see that Simon was not present. At least no vampire would see him suffer, and he could face his Clan without embarrassment when he went back to them. He noticed Clary was gone, and found that relieving as well. Of course Robert and Alec were there, though he cared little about them or what they thought. He cared even less for Jace. However, two people stuck out to him.

Isabelle looked into his eyes for the briefest of moments before tearing her gaze down. She chewed on her lip. He wasn't used to seeing her look so…miserable. Of course there was that time she arrived at the Dumort, suffering from venom withdrawal and begging for more. That wasn't miserable, though. That was pathetic. He remembered her pulling a knife on him when he refused to comply, battling his own addiction to her angel blood. He tried not to think about that. That wasn't Isabelle.

He knew how these interrogations worked. He faced the crowd from the get-go, and in an instant both Silent Brothers were at his side. The other person that stuck in his mind made his presence known.

"Vampire, you're looking a lot better since the last time I saw you," Freeworld sneered. Raphael supressed a growl. He didn't need to look vicious right now, but the Consul was making it hard for him. Raphael did not answer, but simply placed out his hands. The Sword sent a shockwave up his arms, and seemed to hook into his skin. A slight wave of heat radiated off of it. Despite the discomfort, he breathed a sigh of relief. This was not so bad. This seemed to puzzle the crowd more than anything else. What, did they _want_ him to struggle? Perhaps they did. He had no big fans in this room. Well, perhaps one…

"Raphael Santiago, I will ask you many questions, the first being what you were doing at the Institute on the night of the attack?" The Sword felt as if it were on fire, though after a few seconds, he seemed to tame it. Perhaps he was used to evasion, or perhaps the burnings he had received the past few days had trained him for this. He heard Freeworld crack his knuckles, and the vampire played with a smile.

"I was attending a dinner," his voice seemed to be pulled from him, though to the crowd, it seemed as if he were talking normally. Simon had squirmed and drew blood with the pain of the Sword. Raphael didn't seem all that under pressure at all. "Excuse me, Madame Inquisitor," he purred before she could ask him the next question. "But I fail to see how all these questions are necessary. Surely you could just ask me whether or not I committed the crime. It would consume a lot less of everyone's time, and it would spare my hands being set on fire." The crowd gasped. How _dare_ he talk to the Inquisitor like that? Did he not know his place?

Izzy dug her nails into her palms. Sarcasm would get him nowhere with the Inquisitor. He stood still, his hands trembling slightly. His chest heaving up and down. The Inquisitor took her time in answering, and she allowed the members of the Gard to deliberate across her. Izzy knew what she was doing. Drag his trial out longer, inflict as much pain as possible onto him. When she finally spoke, she didn't answer him. Instead, she asked pointless question after pointless question, looking for every loophole she could find. By the time his trial came to an end, it lasted a full ten minutes longer than Simon's.

"Raphael Santiago, you may now release the Sword as we deliberate…" Imogen ordered, but was cut off.

"Apologies, Madame Inquisitor, but might I ask a question or two of my own?" Freeworld sashayed down the steps and landed with grace in front of Raphael, back to the crowd. Raphael's knees buckled, but sheer will power kept him standing. His fangs were out, though he kept them hidden. He would not fall before the Consul. "I would just like to mention a few things," he called over his shoulder to the crowd. Raphael began to sway. "Around your neck, you wear a crucifix, correct?" A 'yes' was torn from the vampire. Freeworld nodded. "You can say the word 'God' and stand for a reasonable amount of time on consecrated ground, am I wrong?"

"No, you are not wrong," Raphael was struggling with his words now, but he tried to keep them even. "But I am not the first vampire to ever have done so."

"Still, rather _unusual_ , isn't it?" Raphael was not forced to answer, as the question was not directed at him. Freeworld spun to face the crowd. "This vampire was offered blood in our care, as was the other one, but he chose to go on hunger strike." The crowd mumbled their thoughts. "Am I wrong?"

"No." Raphael's vision blurred, and he could see more than one Consul standing in front of him. He wasn't sure which one was the real one.

"As the Daylighter would tell you, we were forced to take desperate measures to save his life, as he had entered a blood-loss coma due to starvation. It appeared he also fought with his chains, as he had lost blood too. Correct?"

"Yes." Raphael wanted to say that he was burned by his chains, that he was seared several times a day, even as he slept, but he couldn't get the words out. Technically, he had once or twice fought with his chains, so he couldn't justify himself by saying he hadn't. At least not with the Sword in his hand. Izzy gripped onto her chair tightly. The guilt was crushing her.

"In a desperate bid to save his life, we were forced to douse him with holy water…only a trickle was intended, but too much spilled from the bottle. It should have killed a vampire, but…Mr. Santiago only burned slightly, and healed in a matter of moments."

"What is your point?" Raphael all but hissed. His hands were on fire. His vision was all but black. He wanted to collapse right now.

"My point is this," Freeworld raised his hands to the audience, the image of the perfect T.E.D Talk speaker. "How can we trust that this vampire is telling us the truth based on holding the Sword? How can we, when he can evade so much else? I ask you…"

" _Enough!"_ A voice thundered through everyone's heads, and the Consul looked shocked to the bone. The Sword was whipped from Raphael's hands. Brother Joseph was done with this. _"Your questions are too presumptuous, and he has been tried for too long. I am surprised he is still standing."_ The Consul took a step back, took a blunt nod and muttered.

"Yet another thing you seem to evade, vampire," he spat as he passed him. Raphael's vision went totally, and he stood blind in front of the Nephilim. He knew he was trembling, and a cold sweat was covering him. He thought he might have fainted if he were left any longer. He heard the Inquisitor speak, heard a mumble from the crowd, and felt the metal clasps fall from his limbs. The tight shackle was gone from his leg, though it still felt as if it were still there. He presumed he was free.

" _Gracias Dios, por salvarme_ ," he breathed as he descended the steps. A long hand stroked his shoulder.

" _I am sorry I took so long to stop this,"_ he said. Raphael flinched and eyed the Silent Brother. Brother Joseph may have been a Shadowhunter once, but he unsettled Raphael now.

"At least you did," he purred back, pulling away from him. He danced down the steps and passed the rows of disappointed Shadowhunters. He looked at no one, though he picked up a few words.

"Would have put my money on him," one said.

"I knew it would have to be a warlock, the evidence is all there."

"I never trusted Bane, hanging around our kind when there are plenty of his own about."

Raphael gritted his teeth as he made his getaway. He needed to get back to the Dumort, but stopped as soon as he reached the door. The sun shone through the panes. He stood in the shadows.

"Well, crap."

"You escaped quickly." Raphael tensed. He didn't want to see her. Not now. Not like this. Look how pathetic he was? She saw him squirm, everyone did. Who would have a shred of respect for him now? "Please look at me." Her soft hand grasped at his shoulder. He pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Isabelle," his voice made a slight wobble as he spoke, though he put it down to the aftermath of the Sword. "But I can't do this anymore."

He didn't care that Izzy's face fell into a crumpled heap as he walked away. He didn't care that stepping outside would sear him alive. He didn't care about anything anymore. He made his way through the shadows, and ducked underneath the shade of the roof as he moved. He got a few quick burns on his arms, but he ignore the pain. All he needed to do was get the end of the Institute, and duck his way through the trees to the café next to it. He could hide out there for the day, but he could not be around Isabelle Lightwood.


	10. Chapter 10 - Singing You a Song

**Chapter 10**

 **You Are Not Alone, I've Been Here the Whole Time Singing you a Song. I Will Carry You**

 _"Magnus?" No answer. "Magnus, you awake?"_

 _A single 'hmmm' came as a reply. Alec turned to face his boyfriend, making sure not to move the arm that Magnus was resting on. The room was in darkness, and Alec guessed it must have been around three in the morning. He could make out Magnus perfectly, though. His eyes were closed, and his hair was slept in. Necklaces adorned his neck and chest. Alec couldn't help from smiling. He didn't feel tired in the slightest, which was probably a problem, but witnessing this sight was worth it._

 _"I was just wondering. I couldn't sleep. Sorry for waking you up." A smile bloomed across Magnus' face, and he opened his eyes. Shifting in position to face Alec head on, he stroked his neck rune. Alec toyed with his hair._

 _"Never apologise for waking me up when I get to see you," Magnus murmured. Alec couldn't stop his smile, and leaned in to kiss him. Moments like these were why the loft was home for both Magnus and Alec. Never in his life had Alec ever thought he'd get it this good. Magnus pulled away, smiled, and rested his head on Alec's chest. "What has you so wound-up tonight, Alexander?" Alec sighed, pulling his forearm up to cradle Magnus head in his elbow and gently pulled at loose locks of the warlock's hair._

 _"It's just…ever since last week, when…when Valentine was finally defeated, I…never mind, it's stupid."_

 _"It doesn't sound stupid. If it keeps you up at night, how can it be?" Magnus raised his eyes to meet Alec's. Alec kissed the top of his head. His hair smelled of Indian sandalwood._

 _"It's just that, after everything we've been through, it feels like…it feels like Jace is…"_

 _"Different?" Magnus finished for him. Alec nodded._

 _"How'd you know?"_

 _"I've seen him now and again. I feel the same with Clary."_

 _"I tried asking questions but…"_

 _"Alexander," Magnus suddenly sat up, watching as his Shadowhunter stopped moving his lips and started listening. Alec always listened to Magnus. It was one of the many reasons Magnus loved him. His opinion mattered. He wasn't just some other Downworlder. He had a voice, and Alec loved to hear it. "You must remember, Clary and Jace attacked and killed an evil man; a man that was, in a way, a father to both of them. For Clary to have had to kill her own father, no matter how much she despised him, it must have been hard. The same goes for Jace. The man that raised him for over a decade of his life, he had to kill. It's not a topic…one likes remembering…" Magnus' thoughts flashed back to a time in his own past. A time when he was just a little boy who couldn't control himself, and had to follow the path of the Downworld all on his own. A time when his mother killed herself because she hated him so much – her child, her little boy – and a time when his step-father blamed him for it. A time when Magnus killed a man, and blamed himself for the death of a woman all these years. Alec knew what he was thinking._

 _"Hey," he raised up from the bed and leaned his forehead against Magnus'. His hand cupped Magnus' face. If they could have frozen this moment in time, then both of them would have. Magnus found Alec's lips, and with that, both of them were saved from their own thoughts._

"Innocent."

Alec was dragged from his memories when he heard the single word tear across the room. He hadn't even realized Catarina had taken her stand, and never heard the Inquisitor speak to begin with. He rubbed his face. He was so tired. He had not slept properly since Magnus' arrest, and was aware of the dark, forsaken look he had been sporting since then. He just needed Magnus home. He needed him safe.

"You are not a representative of the Downworld," Imogen stated.

"No, I am not," Catarina fired back. She was taking badly to the Sword. Ever since it touched her hands, she began to shake. Her face was held in a grimace, but she showed the crowd eyes of fire.

"Then why were you at this representative dinner?"

"It wasn't…it wasn't just for the representatives. Simon Lewis was also invited, and there was no Seelie present."

"So you came on your own accord?"

"I was _invited_. I came as a guest, with Magnus." Catarina's forehead wrinkled as a wash of pain came over her. Alec thought he saw flecks of blue cross her features, though he could have imagined it. He was extremely tired. The Inquisitor was a fantastic time waster, in Alec's opinion. Sure, she was searching for loop-holes, but after seeing Raphael's trial, how she asked him pointless question after question until he looked as if he would collapse there and then, he wondered if loop-holes were all that important to her. He didn't see her as someone particularly opposed to the Downworld, but he wondered if personal matters clouded her judgement. After all, she was going to execute Valentine right there in the Institute, despite the fact that the Clave had denied her request. Alec promised himself he wouldn't step in, get involved in their trials, though. He knew from experience that that would only make things far worse.

"You said that the High Warlock, Magnus Bane, invited you to this dinner. How am I not to assume that two very powerful warlocks didn't work together to cast a spell to create the attack without leaving the room?"

"We did not…"

"Is it possible, Ms. Loss?" Imogen boomed. As her tone of voice shocked the majority of the crowd, the Shadowhunters caught a glimpse of something most had never seen before. Catarina's dark braids ebbed into grey. Her skin seemed to shimmer, as if she were under the surface of a wall-lit swimming pool, and turned dark blue. She had lost control.

The Silent Brother to her right went to assist her, but she spoke, tearing her voice from her throat in a rushed, exhausted answer.

"Yes, it is possible to create such a spell, but it is dark, demonic magic. If we were to have raised a demon, we would have to have prepared a pentagram, and the Demon Alarms would have went off. I don't understand how this happened, and whether magic was involved or not, but I stand here, before you jackasses, baring my warlock mark for all of you to gawk at, and tell you that I am innocent. I am holding the Soul Sword, I have been to the City of Bones; I am not lying."

Imogen seemed to consider this, then gave a nod to the Silent Brother. He took the Sword from her blue hands, then with a flick of her stele, the guard behind her severed the shackles around her ankles. Catarina let out a loud shaky breath, bending over slightly to fill her lungs with the oxygen she seemed deprived of. Her first thought was of Madzie, and how she could finally go home and see her. The warlock child must have been so confused, and she couldn't wait to see her, pull her into her arms and give her the biggest hug of her entire life. With shaky legs, she descended down the steps, her grey hair ebbing back to its original raven colour.

"Catarina Loss, you're free to go…" Imogen started as Catarina was already halfway down the aisle. She turned on her heels to face her, purple flashes darting around her fingertips. She noticed the guards stand up straighter, hands on the hilts of their seraph blades. Catarina rolled her eyes. Her thoughts landed on Magnus, how he was next. She should have stayed, supported him there, but she could not stand for another second in a room with these idiots.

"Here's a thought," she offered, her skin returning to its normal colour until not a hint of blue was left. "Instead of sitting on your asses here, sticking the Sword of Death into innocent Downworlder hands, and wasting everyone's time, why don't you actually try finding the attacker? I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders in a mock carefree movement. "It was just a thought." She made her exit from the room, throwing the door open with her magic before she even got near it, just to be dramatic. The crowd echoed their answers, annoyed to have been spoken down to by a warlock. The tallest of the Lightwoods stepped over his sister and Parabatai.

"Out of the way," he almost snapped as he made his way to the aisle. He didn't need a speed rune to race his way down where the warlock had disappeared off to. He caught a glimpse of bright golden light as he burst through the door. Catarina was just about to step into a portal.

"Catarina!" he called. She sighed, the roar of the portal drowning it out. She turned her head to face him, her clothes whipping behind her with the winds of the portal.

"I know I should stay," she half choked on her worlds. "I love Magnus with all my heart, Alec, you know that. He's the dearest friend I have. But I can't…stand there, in a room full of…"

"Jackasses?" Alec offered, copying her own words. They shared a smile for a split second, before she looked down.

"Complete and utter jackasses. I know he's gonna pull through it, but after the hell we've been through these past few days, I should be there for the final hurdle…I just can't be there and not be able to _do_ anything about it if…if he responds badly to the sword, or if they ask him all those stupid questions…no. I can't do it." She turned to face the portal again, biting her lip and trying her best to hide the tears that had just sprung into her eyes. Alec rubbed his forehead, where a migraine had taken up a semi-permanent residence, and spoke before she could step into the portal.

"Catarina, I didn't chase you out here to… _lecture_ you. I don't blame you, at all, for leaving. I…" Alec struggled with his words. He took a breath and started up again. "I came here to tell you that I was sorry. About everything. I am so sorry. I should never have held that stupid dinner. I just…if I could have done something. I don't want you to think that I didn't care about any of you. The Clave forbade any of us from…I should have tried harder…I should have…"

"Alec," Catarina had turned to face him fully. Her voice shocked him back to his senses. Her eyes were wet, and she blinked a few times before continuing. "I get it. So does Magnus. Not for one second did he believe you gave up on him. He loves you too much for that." She stepped closer, reached up and patted his shoulder. He looked away. He knew the next hour would be a nightmare for him. They had been stuck inside the hall for over three hours, and the sun shone its afternoon blaze. "You'll tell him I said I was sorry?" Catarina asked him. Alec gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Believe me," Alec muttered as she turned back to the portal. "You're not the one who needs to apologize." The woman took a step forward, and it seemed as if the portal had eaten her up completely. The swirling light ceased, and Alec Lightwood stood alone in the hallway. He took a few deep breaths, but it seemed that nothing could prepare him for the nightmare that was to come.

* * *

 _Magnus pried opened his eyes and looked around him. He sat up slowly. Alec wasn't there. He ran a hand through his slept in hair, reached for his black silk robe and went in search of his boyfriend. He didn't know how Alec had managed to get up without waking him, as Magnus had made it a habit to rest his head on Alec's chest as he slept, and often woke up in that position. Magnus strolled out of the bedroom and a sweet smell wafted towards him. Signs of activity came from the kitchen, and with a smile playing on Magnus' lips, he pushed open the kitchen door._

 _"Hey, you're awake," Alec grinned, walking towards his warlock and planting a kiss on his lips. Magnus was smiling as they pulled away. He looked at the scene around him. The table was littered with flour and sugar, and Alec stood in his pajamas in the middle of all the mess. His hair was ruffled from sleep, but he couldn't have looked more awake. Alec reached behind him and offered Magnus his signature 'M' mug, to which Alec had a matching 'A' one. Inside was a steaming hot cup of Magnus' favorite tea._

 _"What's all this?" Magnus asked as his fingers brushed off of Alec's in the exchange. They lingered there for a moment, before Magnus' oven pinged. Alec rushed over, opened it and reached in. He hissed as his fingertips touched the sizzling hot tray. Magnus reached for a dish towel and tossed it his way. "Is there no anti-burning rune?" Magnus joked as he watched Alec drag out whatever he had inside. He laughed at Magnus' joke._

 _"There is," he smiled, "but I have other things on my mind." He placed the tray on the counter top and fanned it with the towel. Magnus took a step closer, and Alec smiled, proud of his work. "I didn't burn it," he smiled at his personal victory, and reached for Magnus. The warlock smiled, embracing his Shadowhunter._

 _"Cinnamon rolls," he smiled. "Are they edible?" Alec swatted at him, pretending to be hurt, before reaching for a knife to cut out the individual rolls._

 _"I_ think _they are," Alec insisted. "I mean, I've never really baked all that much, but I hope I'm better at it than Izzy. I don't know if culinary skills, or lack of, is hereditary or not." Alec plopped a roll into a plate and offered it to Magnus._

 _"Why the sudden need to put_ effort _into breakfast?" Magnus inquired, placing his cup down and accepting Alec's creation._

 _"I don't know," Alec answered, retrieving a cinnamon roll for himself. "It's just that, when we went to that little café in Sweden, you said you loved them. Of course actual, professional chefs made those, but I thought it might be nice to try, I don't know." Alec searched for Magnus eyes as he bit into the bun. Magnus used his fingers to rip into his, then ate it, slightly more dignified than Alec's caveman 'take the biggest bite you can' eating style. He tasted it. It may not have tasted as perfect as the Swedish ones they had at that little café, but somehow they tasted even better. Of course Alec had not seasoned with salt, and may have added a little too much cinnamon, but the fact that Alec got up early just to make them added to their appeal. Magnus came to the conclusion that Alec could have made him anything, and somehow it would always taste beautiful to him. He noticed Alec watching him, chewing slowly, waiting for his love's reaction. Magnus swallowed._

 _"Alexander," he began, closing the space between them. Alec swallowed. "Those cinnamon rolls, from the Swedish café?" Alec nodded. "These are better."_

 _"Lies," Alec laughed back. "I poured too much cinnamon in, so they're a little…" Magnus leaned in, cutting Alec off mid-sentence. Their lips met. They tasted of cinnamon. Alec's free hand cupped Magnus' neck, drawing him closer. Their kiss was long and slow, and when they finally broke apart, both were smiling._

 _"There's just the right amount of cinnamon," Magnus murmured as he leaned his forehead against Alec's. Alec's hands traced its way from Magnus' neck down his arm as Magnus leaned in for another quick kiss. "It's perfect."_

"Bane," Louie gave him a sharp dig in the ribs, pulling him from his wondering thoughts. Magnus blinked his tired eyes. "You know the others were found innocent." Magnus nodded.

"Not a surprise, but good news none the less," he bit back his hiss. He needed to remain in control right now.

"Not good news for you," he snapped. Magnus rolled his eyes. He flexed his fingers. At least he could move them now. His hair was still ruffled and his clothes looked like he was attending a mundane funeral, but he looked better than he did before.

"I'm as innocent as the others," he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Are you scared, Bane?" Magnus raised an eyebrow. He replied with a sigh. "Well, _I_ would be. You realize you're the last one, yes?" Magnus said nothing as he waited for the door to be pushed open. The dirty looks the Nephilim gave him were enough to make even Magnus look away, and he had known discrimination far worse than this in the past. He had been alive a very long time. As he waited, and as Louie rambled on, Magnus' mind wondered off to where it had been. His stomach clenched. All this time, one face kept him going, kept him sane. He had been certain that once he saw him, sitting in the crowd, radiating his support for him, that everything would be OK. He'd be stronger, and nothing could tear him down. Now that he was waiting, and knowing that Alec was on the other side of those doors, he wasn't so sure. The doors cracked open, light from the hall illuminating the warlock's face. Ginny stood in the doorway, hands behind her back, stance full of authority.

"Come," was all she said as she turned her back on him and strode back where she came from. Her long sleeves hid most of her runes, and if Magnus couldn't see the tip of a stamina rune on her neck, he wouldn't have thought she was a Shadowhunter at all. Louie held onto Magnus' forearm as he led him forward. Magnus' heart hammered at the thought of being paraded in front of a whole crowd of disrespectful Nephilim. He rolled his head to the side, looking at no one in particular, but directed his words at Louie.

"I didn't do it, you know," he murmured. Louie didn't say anything as he walked. Magnus kept his eyes low as he entered. He knew how these cases worked. He faced the crowd head on, and as slowly as he could, he raised his eyes. He felt the shackles on his wrists fall, and just before he was left there, Louie whispered back his answer.

"I know."

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 _So sorry for the wait! It was my first time ever writing something remotely fluffy and soft (I'm more of an angsty author) but it was so fun to do those little Malec memories! At least three of them are free, right?... - S_


	11. Chapter 11 - Mirror Mirror

**Chapter 11**

 **Mirror Mirror, What's Behind Me, Save Me from the Things I See**

If you were to ask Alexander Lightwood what he saw when Magnus Bane climbed onto the podium, he wouldn't have been able to answer you. The man on trial was not the same man that Alec was in love with. There was something so…broken about this person. So raw. Alec had to look away. Next to him, Jace fidgeted. It was as if he couldn't think of anything to say that would help his Parabatai in the slightest. He played with his fingers, staring at the ground with such dedication as to not catch anyone's eye. He wished Clary were here. He knew she would have been ecstatic that Simon was free, and probably wanted to spend her time with him and Luke, but a part of him wished that she was here for Magnus. He heard Alec exhale, trying to muffle it down when he realized he made the sound out loud. Robert had moved further on down the hall, his excuse being that he had to deliberate with one of the guards by the door, but Jace knew that, like him, Robert found this extremely uncomfortable. Izzy was better when it came to comforting her brother. She enveloped his hand in hers, and squeezed it as Magnus faced the crowd.

Magnus' eyes raked through the crowd to find Alec's. When the met, it was as if explosions set off in their chests. Alec's mouth began forming silent words, but Magnus did nothing but offer him a weary smile. Flamboyantly, Magnus rolled his wrists so his flat palms faced up and extended his fingers.

"Sword, please," he sighed, tearing his eyes away from Alec's.

"Warlock scum," he heard someone mutter, though he chose to ignore it as he accepted the sword. The Soul Sword was cold to the touch, and he instantly felt the hooks seem to sink into his skin. He bit his lip, ensuring not a sound of weakness would leave him. He kept his face neutral, ignoring the searing pain that was throbbing all the way from his fingers to his shoulders. He knew the longer he held the sword, (and let's face it, being the last prisoner to do so, it would be a while,) the more pain he would be subjected to. For the moment, he ignored it. He tried to focus on what the Inquisitor was saying to him.

"Magnus Bane," she stated. It was a few moments before she began speaking again. Perhaps she was going for a dramatic build up. "Quite a lot of trouble you seem to have gotten yourself into." Magnus rolled his glittery eyes with enthusiasm. "Would you agree?"

"Care to rephrase the question?" The Sword seared as Magnus attempted to dodge giving an answer, but there wasn't anything else he could say. He couldn't say yes, as he hadn't done anything wrong. He couldn't say no, because he had gotten himself into this, the second he said yes to that dinner. The crowd didn't seem too pleased with his answer. Neither did Imogen.

"You must think you're quite amusing, Bane." Her snap was meant to unsettle him, but after the wash of pain he had recovered from the last time he tried to dodge a question, he tried to thread more carefully.

"I have my moments." He kept his response short, as he was sure his voice would wobble with weakness should the Sword flare. It did not, but his arms still throbbed. It was spreading now, and his neck and head were becoming the Sword's new targets. "Can you ask me a question worthwhile?"

Izzy squeezed Alec's hand, as he sat up straighter in his chair. He gulped, and sweat was beginning to form on his brow. He may as well have been the man on trial. In a way, they both were.

Question after question, the Sword seemed to get angrier and angrier. Alec watched in despair as Magnus shifted uncomfortably every time he answered. He noticed him blink, squeezing his eyes shut every time the truth was torn from his throat. Sweat dotted his brow and temples, and his breathing was becoming more and more laborious. However, when he spoke, he kept his tone strong and even.

It had reached his head, and much like Raphael, his vision faltered. He tried blinking to clear it up, but that didn't work. It seemed that the sword was trying to attack the warlock's marks, such as Catarina's skin and Magnus' eyes. They began to throb. He forced them open. It seemed with every question, Imogen and the crowd got more irritated. Some Nephilim even offered questions to ask him, much to the Inquisitor's annoyance. When she asked the same question, phrased differently, for the third time, Magnus was truly livid.

"I've been asked that question three times. My answer has not changed. I physically _cannot_ lie. I did not set foot nor spell inside that store room that night. Why would I want to? It's not like seraph blades are my thing." Magnus had silently thanked his past self that he missed his last meal. Going on a rant with the sword was not a good idea. His stomach churned, and he was sure he was going to vomit all over the stand. What a way to end a trial. Simon with a collapse, Raphael with blindness, Catarina with a speech and himself with puke. Not the way Magnus was trained to make dramatic exits. After a second, it settled down. He opened his eyes again. Imogen looked fit to explode.

"Waste of time," somebody in the audience called. More protests made their show.

"We have no proof. It must have been an inside job."

"Does this mean the killer is still walking around here?!" Panic erupted in the hall, and Imogen had no more questions to ask. She looked desperately to the Consul.

"Freeworld, you must have a question or two that I must have missed?" The sword was physically scarring Magnus now. He looked down with blurry sight to his hands, which were dribbling blood. They seemed numb and blistered. A simple healing spell would fit it, but for now, he couldn't do anything about it. He clamped his eyes shut. His veins throbbed so much he thought they would explode, and his arms ached from holding the sword for so long. He could feel his eyes twitch even more violently then before, and while the chaos consumed the room and the Consul struggled to find things to say, Magnus opened his eyes.

Great golden irises and a black, slit pupil scanned the room. His fingers trembled and twitched, and his hands spasmed and shook. Everything was cast in a gold tinted, high definition light as Magnus eyed the chaos. An underwater sensation took over him and a ringing echoed in his ears. Everyone was in motion, shouting and arguing. Only one person in the room seemed to be silent. Seemed to be still.

As Magnus made eye contact with Alec, the underwater feeling intensified. He heard nothing but the echo of people and that blasted ringing. His eyes grew a brighter gold as he could feel his desperation for freedom take hold of him. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they battled with the sword, blood sticking between his fingers and around his nails. His brow furrowed, his eyes snapped shut and then…

Silence.

Magnus opened his eyes to a gobsmacked crowd. A sudden panic entered Magnus. Had he used his magic? Had he hurt anyone? Did he lose control all together and send out an involuntary shock wave?

No, everyone seemed fine. He sought out Alec, but for the first time, his boyfriend was not looking at him. Mouth agape, mirroring Izzy and Jace, mirroring the whole crowd, he stared with wide eyes at the warlock's feet.

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, was undoubtedly innocent. Why?

Because he was the first person in Shadowhunter history to ever drop the Sword.

* * *

As night fell across the city, Raphael emerged from the shadows. He had not returned back to the clan. He wasn't ready for that yet. He just wanted to be on his own for a while, but now that sense of self-righteousness was wearing off now, and the ebb of loneliness was taking its place. Raphael was never one for much company, but all of a sudden he craved it. He needed someone to share his experience with. There was no way he was speaking to the Daylighter when he had been at his most vulnerable in front of him. Izzy was completely out of the question, too. In fact there was only one person Raphael actually wanted to see. A wave of guilt hit him as he thought of his oldest friend. He should have been there. He shouldn't have stormed off like a child because he hurt his pride. Well, his eyes hurt as well, but that wasn't the point.

No, Raphael Santiago wasn't a coward. Then why did he have to act like one when Magnus, the oldest friend he had in his long, lonely life, needed him the most? He needed to face the music, and to do so, he needed to go back to the dreaded Institute. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to step inside, that much was to be expected, but now that nightfall had shrouded the city in darkness, he could quite easily wait outside.

Three times on his journey from the café to the Institute did he turn back and start for the Dumort. Three times he scolded himself for being so spineless. He wasn't afraid of Nephilim. He had faced much worse than glorified security guards, but going back to that awful place willingly was something Raphael just…couldn't force himself to do. Days he had spent in there. Days of starvation and burnings, and not to mention being locked up in the same cell as the Daylighter. Where was his justice? He went through all that for Nephilim justice, but where was his? Seventy years, and it still got to Raphael sometimes. He would never be treated as an equal. He was nothing but a blood sucking leech to the Shadowhunters. But he wasn't doing it for the Shadowhunters. He was doing this for Magnus, and he was doing it for himself.

He shuddered as he entered the grounds. He balled his pale hands into fists to stop them from shaking, and he started up the drive. He understood that the alarms would be going off inside the Institute, and waited patiently outside for an escort. However, three minutes later, and the Institute was still. No Shadowhunter came to question his appearance. He edged closer. No reaction. Curiosity was what drove Raphael forward. There had been murders…shouldn't the Shadowhunters be on high alert? He had reached the front door at this stage.

"No guards…" he mused, reaching out to touch the cold wall. He trailed his pale hand along it, walking to the side of the building. The night was quiet, which must have meant that the commotion going in inside was concealed. Were there silence runes? Raphael didn't particularly care, but he relished in the quietness. The breeze was chilly, though he didn't find it cold. The silence was a breath of fresh air, as the café he had resided in was rather bustling. Children were not Raphael's thing, though he did let himself indulge in a conversation with an old man. Of course Raphael could connect with the elderly, they had grown up in the same era as him. They could speak about mundane wars, and past experiences, though Raphael could never tell them why he knew. When this particular old man asked him, he replied with the same lie.

"My Grandpa told me all about it."

He was knocked out of his reverie when he reached the very edge of the building.

" _Dios_ , what are you doing?!" he hissed at himself. If he was caught, they would definitely arrest him again, and would probably not bat an eye-lid at leaving him rot in the City of Bones, or left to disintegrate in the sunlight. He could outrun them, but Shadowhunters were relentless. He knew that from experience. He turned around. Perhaps it was a blessing? He didn't have to go into the Institute again, and it wasn't his fault, either. He couldn't scold his cowardice.

"I…wasn't my…didn't…kill anyone…"

Raphael stopped in his tracks, a chill running up his spine. There was someone out here. He threw himself up against the wall, but again, the night was still. He could have zoned in on a far-away mundane conversation. Or perhaps he imagined it. Being locked up wasn't the best thing for one's mental health. But why couldn't he accept that? He stayed where he was, listening for any sound, any movement. After a minute, he heard it again.

"…wasn't my…mark…not me…"

That was undoubtedly a voice. A woman's voice, or perhaps a child? He glanced around the corner, but there was nothing to notice. He clenched his jaw. If he walked away now, would he ever be satisfied, knowing the true killers could be right there? But why should he care? Why should he help solve a case he was being blamed for? That he suffered for?

Why? Because Raphael Santiago was not a terrible person. He made mistakes. He looked out for himself, because no one else would do that for him. Well, nobody except the man undergoing the inquisition inside. He had to do it for him. He wouldn't let an innocent man rot in prison.

He darted across the corner, and made his way to the back of the Institute. Something was definitely wrong. Not a guard in sight. He ducked through the trees, avoiding the crunching of the leaves underfoot as much as he could. He followed the trail of hushed voices and urgent whispers. He was sure there were two people now, and one was most definitely a man.

For an Institute, they really needed to invest in some mundane CCTV. A narrow door swung back and forth softly, and a corridor was illuminated dimly. Raphael edged closer, but even his perfect sight couldn't detect movement. He darted to the door, cringing as a twig snapped underfoot. The conversation continued none the less. He could hear fragments now, more clearly.

"After all I've done for you? Child, you did your part. You caused a disturbance. It is not your fault those Shadowhunters decided to get in the way."

That was undoubtedly Freeworld. Raphael's whole body shook with rage, but he remained silent.

"But…it's my fault they've died! You didn't tell me there would be guards. You said…you said it would be a quick in and out!" That was a girl's voice, though Raphael couldn't detect who it was.

"But it wasn't, was it? And you didn't collect what I asked of you…"

Even though Raphael's skin did not feel the cold, even he could sense the drop in temperature. The shift in the wind. The negative energy coursing from the corridor. If only he could just poke his head around…

"You. Didn't. **WARN ME**!" The vampire reached to shield his ears from the scream, which echoed through the trees and bounced around the stone buildings. Black soot wafted from the door, though the smell of smoke was absent. It coated part of Raphael's arm – it burned. He hissed, brushing the soot off of his arm, which was hardening into tar. It dripped from the door frame and flooded out of the doorway. The wooden door began to warp. Raphael had seen many strange things in his life, but none such as this. Darting back the trees, he watched as Freeworld darted from the door, coughing and dimming his witchlight. His cough seemed to carry on forever, though no one seemed to hear it. There was more security in a church than there was here. The soot still emitted from the door frame but now a shadow was added into the mix. Raphael refrained from swearing. So it had been a demon. It had been a fault in the alarms. All of this time, he and the others had been suffering. The only man he knew who could handle this was in lock-up. Consul Freeworld was about to die. _'Good enough for you'_ he thought to himself. Was it so very un-Catholic to feel thankful for a demon that would murder your tormentor? Raphael felt it may have been, but surely the Man Upstairs would understand?

From the doorway, the demon emerged, though it was still surrounded in soot. Freeworld groaned in agony as he wiped the soot from his bare skin, scraping the hardened tar from his hands and face. He resorted to begging, pleading it to calm down. He held up an arm in defence, and reached for his cane. He snapped it open, and Raphael watched as it emitted a similar glow to the witchlight. The soot began to clear. The figure resembled a human, as a lot of demons did. The voice from earlier on meant it was female, though only when the soot cleared, and when the light shone into her face, did Raphael see what she really was. She wasn't tall, and was quite lean. Not a speck of tar or soot clung to her. She was a brunette, and her hair blew across her face with the gusts of wind. She stood with tear-stained cheeks, her head hanging low. Freeworld, though ready to club her with his cane seconds earlier, embraced the crying girl. Raphael stared in confusion. He stroked her hair. He whispered soothingly into her ear. Was this his daughter? His grandchild? Was she his…partner? No, Freeworld was obviously scared of her, and hugged her only to calm her. His grip on his cane was turning his knuckles white. He held her at arm's length.

"You need to control yourself, child! You don't want them to lock us up, do you? They'll kill me. They'll torment you, Ginny. You're special, child. I made you special. But they won't understand that. They will tear you apart. You don't want that to happen, do you? You don't want anyone else to die!" he shook her, and a sob escaped her. He released her. "Clean yourself up and go inside. I'll sort this mess." She nodded, her face turning to stone.

"Yes, Sir." She wiped her face, gaining composure. "But before I go, would you like me to take care of the vampire?" Her hand rose and her finger extended, pointing at the forest, and straight into the face of Raphael.

Perhaps running was the worst thing Raphael could have done. At least that's what he thought as black tendrils wrapped around his limbs, and as a burning coil wrapped around his body and neck. He landed face first in the dirt, and cried out as he was dragged across the foliage. Freeworld looked indifferent as the Downworlder hurled past him, though Ginny's eyes contained no pupil as the black soot began to cloud around her again.

"Goodnight, Mr. Santiago," Freeworld spat as the corridor raced nearer to Raphael's vision. The tendrils squeezed tightly before unwinding from the vampire's body, and firing him into the back wall.

But the back wall wasn't a wall at all.

The back wall was an adamas mirror.

 ** _Author's Note_**

 _I'm back! OK, I haven't updated in about a year and that's terrible! I felt so bad for leaving all you guys hanging around, but truthfully I was a little angry with the show. Don't get me wrong, I love it! But when they made Raphael into such a ... different person it made writing him so difficult. He was my favourite character, and I felt that people wouldn't react to all the trouble I'm putting him through in an empathetic way...But I've decided that this fanfic happens before season 3, so really this is before all of this...kind of? But while what Raphael did was unforgivable, he really have to keep Heidi locked up and sedated, because she was crazy. He was upset and saw an opportunity, and took it. I'm not condoning it at all, it did kind of wreck Raphael for me, but hopefully we might get some redemption. Anyway, the story is back on track!_


End file.
